


They Will Make Examples Out Of Us

by powerfulantidote



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Friendship, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, danton and sean still play hockey at their respective schools but everything else is made up, go crazy go stupid ahhh, more details on that and triggers in the end notes, power imbalance not between main pairing, reoccurring discussions of 7-eleven and jersey shore, unhealthy relationship not between main pairing, welcome to the ncaa in this fic where the rules are made up and the games dont matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 03:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18460436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerfulantidote/pseuds/powerfulantidote
Summary: What happens when you keep meeting the right person at the wrong time, but the universe keeps giving you another chance.Or, Danton and Sean learn to love themselves and then each other over four years of making mistakes, getting shitfaced with friends, singing Country Roads, police stations, risky texts, and breaking into pools at college.





	They Will Make Examples Out Of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldenpuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenpuno/gifts), [cjmasim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmasim/gifts), [big_zs_d_stan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_zs_d_stan/gifts).



> Hey, what up its ya boy...skinny penis back with more sad shit. 
> 
> Before I say anything else I wanna say that triggers are in the endnotes, they may be slightly spoilery as safety comes first and I don't want to accidentally trigger anyone. What I will say here is I try to handle everything as seriously as possible and most sensitive things discussed in this fic are things I lived through.
> 
> Thank you to the three people this is gifted for, who have been here since I literally started writing this and it was originally gonna be me venting about my roommates. Without them, this would make no grammatical sense.
> 
> Only God Can Sue Me.

**Freshman Year**

The frat parties begin at the sound of the final buzzer. Sean’s never been to one before it hit full swing, never been able to arrive earlier.

After finishing a game of Canada’s sport, he finds himself at a brutally American afterparty. Red Solo cups litter the floor, Red Bull and vodka getting passed around between games of _Dance, Dance Revolution_ in the upperclassmen dorm of the University of Denver. The place is beautiful and easy to tear apart. 

“There you are! I need help. Duct tape this pillow to my body.” Anders greets Sean for the first time since leaving the arena. A big win for an underdog Miami RedHawks team against the Denver Pioneers gave them access to the afterparty despite being the away team. Winning didn’t just help in the standings but gave the players bragging rights and free booze. 

“Coach’ll kill you if you’re hurt again.” Sean raises an eyebrow. It’s less from a place of concern and more Sean not wanting to be blamed for Anders’ next injury. 

Anders rolls his eyes like Sean’s the one being ridiculous. “I’m not getting hurt. Matt is waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a blanket.”

_Oh, that makes it so much safer_ is what Sean wants to say, but Anders isn’t going to be reasoned with. Once Matt gives his blessing there’s no stopping the RedHawks freshman from a bad decision. It’s better to enjoy the ride. 

Looking over his shoulder to check if Sean is following, Anders navigates them down the hallway. They pass couples making out and groups of friends taking Jell-O Shots before reaching a staircase with Charlie, Matt, and a pile of linen sheets. Sean doesn’t bother asking where they got the blankets. Instead, like a good friend and teammate, he finds a roll of packing tape in a kitchen drawer and helps them turn Anders into the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. 

The progression of their masterpiece draws quite a crowd. Anders explains his plan to a pair of Denver girls while the rest help with head protection.

“I’m going to go where no one has gone before but everyone’s wanted to: Sliding down the rail of a spiral staircase. You don’t come across them often when you’re this drunk. What better time than now when called upon by opportunity? Who better than us?”

Half that nonsense is taken from Anders’ oral expression class, the one Sean has witnessed him Google the homework answers to ten minutes before it meets. It gets the girls to laugh, and that’s all that really matters. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Sean can spot four Denver Pioneers in a corner taking in the scene. He’s waiting for them to start sneering at the fun, to try and feel superior off the ice since they sucked so bad during the game. 

The staircase gets padded with blankets by Matt and Charlie who think that’ll keep Anders safe. Sean knows it’s not going to do shit, but doesn’t correct it. All eyes are on Anders when he walks up the stairs to the Rocky theme one of the girls plays from her phone. 

Sean has a better view of the group of Pioneers boys and recognizes one kid from being paired against him all night. He staring, but he can’t stop. 

“Is this what kids do in Ohio?” The taller brunette of the pair turns to Sean and asks. She’s got a nice smile, maybe she’s on a sports team herself. Now would be a good opportunity to flirt and blend in. A safe choice of person to flirt with. God knows his teammates are making him look like the smartest one in the room.

“Helps to have a captive audience.” 

Sean adjusts himself away from the girls and tells himself it has nothing to do with him being uncomfortable. It’s only because he wants a better view of Anders. And to make sure those Denver players don’t try anything. 

All of their hard work and an entire roll of tape gets destroyed within twenty seconds (according to Matt’s timer) when Anders falls off the banister, like, forty feet to the ground. 

Okay, that’s an exaggeration. Sean is too drunk to do the measurement estimation. 

No one makes a sound. 

“I’m okay!” 

Cheers erupt. Anders lived. Time for more drinking. 

Several strangers approach the RedHawks to give Anders a drink or high five. Bravery, or stupidity, must be spreading to Sean. The better option is to stay here and talk to the brunette. Ask her name and what sport she plays. 

Instead, his feet take him toward the Pioneer players. 

Walking towards the people you spent the night chirping while on their turf isn’t Sean’s smartest move, but he wouldn’t be where he was if he thought things through. The four seem to know Sean’s heading over there before he does. He wears his best smile.

Sean starts by greeting the blonde on the far left, the one he spent the night board battling with. “Hey, we were on the ice together a couple of times tonight. I know your face.” 

Maybe it’s rude to leave the rest out, but he’s the one who caught Sean’s attention in the first place. He also seems the least likely to punch Sean right off the bat. 

The effort doesn’t award Sean eye contact, the boy turns to his friends and then looks back at his shoes. 

“I’m surprised you could recognize me. You spent most of the game cross-checking my back.” It comes out as a mumble. 

“Nice one, say it with confidence next time.” Sean inflects, keeping a grin on his face. “I’m a little surprised, too; don’t usually recognize players on other teams. They normally don’t look this good.” 

Everything comes out more nonchalant than Sean actually feels. This is harder than flirting with the brunette. Is this flirting?

The three friends of the blonde are as confused as Sean. They share a look between them and shrug.

“We’re gonna grab drinks. Later, Danny.” The tallest one declares. “Shout if he tries to kill you.” 

Maybe they’re worried this is Sean trying to start a fight in a really ineffective way. One wearing a tank top despite the fifty-degree weather meets the blonde’s eye for confirmation it’s okay to leave. He nods. 

“So...you’re Danny?” The sentence comes out in a drawl.

Sean can tell Danny doesn’t get hit on often by the shade of pink across his face. He hopes this isn’t going to end up the funny story of the time the drunk RedHawks kid hit on the shy freshman. 

“Danton. But Danny is okay, too.” More volume is in Danton’s voice this time. 

“Uncommon name. I dig it.”

“What’s yours? Right now I know you as the asswipe from the game.” Judging by the softer smile and Danton finally making eye contact, Sean’s supposed to laugh at that, not be insulted. 

“Sean Kuraly. I had you down as the Canadian tailgating me.” 

For a moment, Danton exaggerates considering the nickname and pretends to scratch his head. It earns a snort from Sean. 

“Pretty creative, I’ll give you that. Doesn’t really roll off the tongue. How’d you know I’m Canadian?” 

“You got an accent. Heard it when you yelled for the puck. Pretty cute.” 

That’s when Sean knows he has Danton. Hitting on another player at a public party is risky. Danton could punch him now and be done with it. Wouldn’t be the first for Sean.

A punch never comes. Nor does any other kind of violence. Only banter about dialects, fast food chains, roadside attractions, and guilty pleasures. Along the course of the conversation the stairs get cleaned up, someone throws up, and people come in and out of the room, but none of this distracts them. A mariachi band could probably have marched through the room without them stopping. 

“I live pretty close if you, uh, wanna talk somewhere more private. My roommate isn’t back ‘til morning.” Danton’s hands are shoved in his pockets and he’s staring at his feet again like when Sean first approached.

So, he’s interested. Out of his element, maybe, but interested. This could be Danton’s first time doing this.

“Sure, yeah, I gotta compare dorms anyway. Maybe make fun of your decor. You don’t have tie-dye tapestry, right?” Both of them being hockey players means Sean gets away with being a dick as part of the charm. 

“I don’t, but I bet you got a Reservoir Dogs poster in yours.” Danton is able to dish it back as they step out into the fresh air. 

“You read me too well. Am I predictable?” 

“Completely.” 

Danton walks ahead of him, constantly looking over his shoulder for Sean. Happiness is visible on his face with eyes lit up and a tight-lipped smile. This could be really bad for Sean. When they enter the building, Danton grabs Sean’s’ hand and leads him up the stairs.

Like all athlete housing is, the place is huge. Video game cases decorate the floor and dirty laundry covers every single piece of furniture. They make their way through the empty apartment to Danton’s disorganized bedroom. 

“I’d say sorry for the mess, but I’m sure it’s the same where you live.” Danton guesses.

He isn’t completely wrong. Unlike Sean’s room, there are no half drunk protein shakes or empty cans of deodorant lining the floor. Danton’s has more clutter. Handouts he probably didn’t read and assignments given back six weeks ago piled on the bed. Watching Danton push everything onto the floor, Sean wonders where he sleeps normally.

Sean dives to grab an essay stained with coffee at the end of the bed.

“The trade routes of the 1900s can be reflected in o-” 

It only takes eleven words of Sean’s dramatic reading for Danton to jump at him to wrestle it out of his hands. 

“What? Do you think I’m gonna copy it or something? We don’t even go to the same school!” Sean knows he’s being a dick again, but also knows Danton is kinda into that. It at least gets Danton to jump at him and bring them close as they fall on the bed.

Danton lands on top of Sean and gets a grip on the paper with his teeth while both hands are occupied. That takes enough effort that Sean can grab his wrists and roll him over so Danton’s beneath him. In return, Danton breaks his left arm free and puts it loosely around Sean’s neck. 

They’re kissing. It happens quickly and without question, the kind of chemistry you have with a linemate you’ve played with for months. 

Everything feels relaxed, only interrupted with occasional laughter as the adrenaline wears down. Not rushed and desperate the way Sean’s accustomed to. Minutes pass before he slips his hand under Danton’s sweatshirt and moves his mouth to his neck.

Tracing a finger above Danton’s collarbone, Sean moves things along. “Can I…?” 

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Danton grants him permission to leave marks.

They linger in that spot for a while. Sean gets lost in the motions, a hand running along Danton’s hair as he occasionally moves up to mouth as his jawline. It’s a feeling he can only describe as purely content, happy to listen to the noises Danton is making for the rest of his life until Danton speaks up again.

“Hey, I... haven’t done much with men before. If I’m bad at this, I’m sorry.”

That may be the worst time for Sean to laugh. Lucky for him, Danton isn’t offended and joins in on the laughter instead. “I’m serious!”

“Not many dudes worry if they’re good or not. You’ll be fine. If you need to pause or, like, stop or anything, just tell me. Got it?” 

The message seems to get through to Danton, but Sean checks up on him every once in a while anyway and keeps the pace slow. 

Experience only crosses Sean’s mind when Danton stops every so often to ask if he’s doing okay, and even then, it’s kind of cute. Something about the way he goes down on Sean is so earnest, taking pleasure in every reaction he can get out of him. Sean is more than happy to be as loud as he can be if that’s what Danton wants. They are in an empty apartment, after all. 

Sean is only a little ashamed of how fast he finishes. In his defense, it’s been a while. 

Energy from getting laid, going to a party, and playing a hockey game quickly fades and turns into a rough comedown. Cleaning up feels impossible.

“We can use your essays as paper towels?” Sean suggests.

“You can take one back with you. Put your hard-earned grade on the fridge.” Through closed eyes, Danton bites his lip to keep from smiling too wide. Sean lightly shoves a pillow at him and gets up.

After making way to the bathroom, Sean is greeted with towels balled up on the floor and assorted sizes of Old Spice deodorant lining the sink. A familiar sight to Sean and anyone who’s been in an athlete’s dorm. 

Sean catches himself in the mirror and realizes how normal this all feels. Flirting with another party attendee and going home with them. Joking about school and hockey while kissing. It’s the moments he’s heard teammates talk about with the women they’re seeing that he didn’t get to have because it’s never this simple. He didn’t really strive for it or felt he was missing much before, but he gets the hype now. 

Tiredness comes less in the form of fatigue and more tranquility. There’s warmth Sean carries all the way back to the bedroom.

Something feels off when Sean returns. He knows it as soon as he opens the door. The air is tense, and he wonders if this is some kind of human survival instinct kicking in. Danton’s perched on the edge of the bed biting his nails. This is wrong. 

Did he do something? Did someone-somehow-find out? Did Danton’s roommate come back? 

“I made a mistake.” Danton doesn’t look at Sean standing in the doorway, or acknowledge that he came back in the room. 

“What’s up?” Sean can’t bring himself to put any emotion in his voice. Never has been the best at showing concern, and he’s not sure which one of them he should be concerned for. 

“I don’t wanna...You should know. I’m not gay. I should have told you earlier, I’m sorry.” 

It’s maybe the funniest sentence he’s ever heard, but Sean has to keep himself from laughing. Laughing at how fucking comical it is he could have the perfect night and it still ends like this. Nothing gets to be cut and dry for him. For the gay kid. 

“Yeah. Straight guys are known for their dick sucking ability.” 

If there was a possibility Danton was playing a prank on him, that’s clearly not the case when he turns around. He has a face nearly identical to Charlie’s when he drinks too much and is about to get sick, or when Matt sees someone hit a teammate too hard. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone. Or anyone asked. I wasn’t thinking.”

What Sean wants to ask is how little do you have to be thinking to accidentally sleep with a dude after two beers? This doesn’t even feel like the guy Sean was with fifteen minutes ago. Doesn’t even make sense, because Sean has had dry spells, but didn’t start fucking girls in that time. 

“Sorry for being your mistake?” Sean doesn’t even know how to react, stuck somewhere between bewildered and concerned and pissed off. Is this the part where he knocks something over? Cracks a joke? Doesn’t care at all?

A moment passes with no response. This is the part where he leaves.

“I didn’t-Not like that, it’s not you. You’re great, and I would be attracted to you if. You know.” Danton states it like it’s the most common-sense thing in the world. Like many people accidentally give blowjobs to guys at parties. Or like Sean shouldn't be offended that the guy who he just hooked up with said he wasn't attracted to him and called him a mistake. 

“You'd be attracted to me if you liked guys after you came? I get it.” This time Sean lets himself get a little loud, feeling he’s earned the right to after the utter bullshit he's had to hear in the past five minutes and the whiplash of it all.

Part of Sean wants Danton to explain further. That never comes. He finishes getting dressed in silence. 

“Later,” is how Sean parts. There probably won’t be a later. 

Bus call isn’t for a few hours. Charlie has already exposed in the group chat they have with Anders and Matt that Sean didn’t come back in for the night. It’s followed up with a lot of jokes at Sean’s expense, asking who the lucky guy is, and a link to the Lonely Island video about getting laid. 

Sean mutes the chat feature. If he’s lucky, they’ll let him be vague or laugh about how ridiculous it is with him. 

If he could have it his way, he wouldn’t think of Danton Heinen again.

**Sophomore Year**

Callie breaks up with Danton a month into the fall semester over text. He doesn’t read everything she wrote and types out a generic response before going back to playing Grand Theft Auto with Brandon.

A full hour passes before Brandon even asks who he was texting. He takes the situation harder than Danton did.

“She really broke up with you over text? Haven’t you known each other since, like, conception?” Brandon pauses the video game against Danton’s will and turns to face him.

Danton shrugs while reaching into the bag of chips set between them. “There’s no reason to call. We don’t really have anything to say to each other.”

“That bad, huh?”

“No, it wasn't bad. But we probably only dated because of proximity. Now we’re 500 miles apart, so there’s no reason to be together.” 

Danton _did_ like Callie. Wanted her to succeed, to be happy, but was content watching that happen from a distance. 

Mutual friends had set them up together. Said they’d go well together since they were both reserved. She wanted to work at a national park and a lot of dates were spent on hiking trails in comfortable silence. Callie would invite him to spend weekends in Seattle with her, but Danton always stayed home and liked her Instagram posts about her travels instead. 

Hopefully, Brandon will let it go. Attribute it to the list of weird things Danton does that Jake and Pasta keep track of with a dry erase board on the fridge. Item number four after “eats cereal with chocolate milk at night.”

During the travel for their first away game of the season, it becomes clear that he won’t be so lucky. 

“Jake and I are getting you laid tonight!” Pasta declares a little too loudly for a bus with school staff on it. He wraps an arm around Danton’s shoulder and gives him a shake. 

“You two aren’t exactly my type.” Danton sinks further into his seat. Maybe he should have kept his headphones in. 

“We are too out of your league.” The response is said as if Pasta had considered the option. It probably would be funny if Danton wasn’t the target. 

“It’s really okay. I wanted to lay low tonight. Get back in the routine of things.” 

Jake’s sitting in front of him, because of course he is, and launches out of his seat upon hearing this. Danton wonders if he’ll ever get a break.

“Hell no. You gotta get your liver back into a routine. We’re in _Ohio_.” Somewhere in there is an attempt to be serious, but Jake struggling not to laugh makes it ineffective. 

“You make it sound like Ohio is exciting,” Danton mumbles, barely audible. Is it possible to start physically shrinking in a conversation? 

Meddling from his friends isn’t his only reason for trying to lay low tonight. Earlier this calendar year, he brought a Miami RedHawks player back to his dorm and it didn’t end on good terms. Probably because the way Danton handled it was worse than breaking up with someone over text.

If he’s lucky, Sean Kuraly doesn’t remember him. Doesn’t get the same punch-in-the-gut feeling Danton gets when he sees Sean’s name on college sports updates. Maybe he didn’t look at pictures of Danton on the ice the way he did for Sean at two in the morning, wondering what it’s like to have a boyfriend. How that word would sound on his tongue. 

Sean, realistically, doesn’t do any of these things. Probably wants nothing to do with him at all. 

The game goes well that night. Danton scores the game-winning goal in the 4-2 victory over Miami University, stickhandling in the passing lane and going top shelf with ten minutes left in the third. Denver closes out the game with an empty netter from Jake. It’s a morale booster after their last game against Miami ended in a loss. 

Things felt like they clicked into place in the locker room that night. Sure, Danton got the game-winner, but the way they were playing it could have been any of them. 

If they win as a team, then they will party as a team. Being egged on by teammates congratulating him sure helps. 

“You won’t need our help getting laid. You’ve reached GOAT status!” Brandon strings his first coherent sentence in the last ten minutes together. There isn’t much conversation on the walk across Miami’s campus following the game. Just Jake and Brandon screaming and singing various radio pop songs, waking up unsuspecting Miami students as they pass their dorms. 

“They won’t care about me once they see Pasta. Girls go crazy for his accent.” It’s a smooth way for Danton to both deflect attention and embarrass his teammate.

Pasta puts a hand on Danton’s shoulder and flashes his puppy dog eyes. “Is this because I said I’m out of your league? I’ll buy you dinner if it makes you feel better.”

The party’s more crowded than Danton’s used to back in Denver. It’s early in the semester, full of new students wanting to get in trouble and older students who’ve stopped caring about being in trouble. He can’t go three steps without bumping into someone and spilling his drink. The Pioneers have already been separated from each other. 

Twenty minutes pass and the potential the night once had starts to wear off. He's considering leaving when Brandon tracks him down.

“Danny! I want you to meet a friend. You dangled around him tonight, so I want you to rub it in.” Brandon shouts over the music, grabbing Danton’s arm before he gets a say in the matter.

They head out to the backyard scattered with animated conversation and couples making out. Dried grass crunches beneath their feet along with abandoned empty cans. Finally, they zero in on three boys standing in a semicircle, clutching their cups and hidden by the darkness until they get within five feet of them.

“Meet the guy who owns your motherfucking college now.” The gloat is how Brandon chooses to introduce him. A lack of light hides Danton’s embarrassment.

One boy with a soft face and long hair tucked behind his ears beams at him. He reaches out to shake Danton’s hand. 

“Almost twisted my ankle trying to defend against you tonight. Dontcha’ know we don’t get free healthcare down here?” 

Without hesitation, Danton takes his hand. “Learned that the hard way when Brandon threw a PS4 controller at me and I thought I had a concussion. I’m Danton, by the way.” 

“Anders, and these are my teammates Matt and Charlie. Don’t trust them, they spent the last five minutes trying to convince me a hot dog counts as a sandwich.” 

The taller, baby faced one who must be Charlie lets out a small “hey!” in response to Anders while Matt nods hello to Danton.

Anders’ health care comment brings attention to Danton being the only Canadian present, leading into why he’d chosen to come to America and somehow ending up with a conversation about the weirdest places you could study abroad. It’s going so well Danton doesn’t worry or notice when another person heads towards them.

“How long does it take to get drinks, fucker?” Matt shouts at the figure walking to them. Has to be another RedHawks player.

“Get it yourself next time.” 

Danton knows that voice.

Anders lets out a cackle before addressing the two Pioneers. “Brandon, Danton, this is Sean. He’s an asshole who plays center. Sean, this is two Denver players we’ve adopted. You’re paying child support.”

There’s no subtlety from Sean’s silent and confused stare down of Danton, not even acknowledging Brandon at first. The air around the group shifts. Danton isn’t the only one uncomfortable. 

“You two met before?” Charlie cocks his head. 

An answer comes too quickly from Sean. “Once or twice.”

It shouldn’t sting, but it does. 

Things aren’t as awkward once the group starts talking as Danton worried it would be. He originally recoils into shyness, but is coaxed back out with Anders’ friendliness and a good supply of beer. Sean warms up to him, to Danton’s surprise, and offers to get him a beer when making another run. Even laughs at Danton’s joke about writing about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in an art history exam. Getting along with Charlie and Matt must help him get back in some good graces. 

Things could have stayed like that. Probably should have. Friendly, with an understanding between the two that things get hard and weird sometimes and Danton probably needs a therapist. Or a palm reader. Anyone to tell him things are going to be alright and stop him from escalating situations like this and flirting.

Beer is to blame. Beer and a game-winning goal. It makes the very few occasions in which Sean gets flustered cuter and the way he can capture the attention of rowdy hockey players for a story more attractive.

Danton accompanies him to grab more beer for the group after Sean has seemed to decide that Danton is not an intentionally bad person. Never a master at being smooth, he slips a hand into Sean's back pocket.

Deep laughter erupts from Sean as if it was reflex.

“What, you gay again or something?” Surprisingly, Sean doesn’t sound angry, not like the last time Danton saw Sean and he had his hands balled into a fist. This time Sean’s smirking at him, a mix between teasing and flirting like in the Denver frat house.

“You make it hard not to be.” 

There’s a pause as they fill up the beers, punctuated with long stares at each other while Sean delays his answers and waits until they’re back outside to address Danton’s advancements. 

“I’ll make you a deal. I can take you back to my dorm tonight, no one will give you a problem, but you gotta promise you’ll tell me what’s going on before you have a freakout.”

Fair enough. Only a slightly embarrassing thing for someone you had sex with to have to ask.

“You’re on.”

Within forty-five minutes, Sean has them both excused from their friends and to his dorm. He must do this often. 

It’s urgent. A clock in the back of their mind that reminds them they can’t waste time. Mixing that with two desperate college-aged boys is a recipe for disaster. Or a recipe for making out on a desk chair because they couldn’t reach the bed. 

Sean doesn’t bother to move them over when going down on Danton but does take his time getting Danton off. Part of it must be bitterness from Danton’s previous closing comments. Him wanting to hear that Danton is into it. If that’s Sean’s revenge, he’s not too upset. 

When they finish, Danton is so overwhelmed he doesn’t even notice Sean leave the room and come back with paper towels. It’s only brought to his attention when Sean begins cleaning up Danton’s thighs for him, and the yelp that follows is only a little embarrassing.

“Hungry?” That’s less of a question from Sean and more instruction, which he follows while struggling to put his pants back on. He nearly trips three times walking with Sean to the kitchen. 

The centerpiece of the kitchen is a recycling bin overflowing with protein shakes. A banana is rotting next to the microwave, which looks like something exploded inside and never got cleaned. Sean reaches into a cabinet and grabs two instant Kraft Mac and Cheese cups. That’s information he’ll omit from the nutritionist. 

“You can turn the T.V. on if you want, I think the ‘Nucks played tonight. You’re from Vancouver, aren’t you?” 

Sean remembering that puts too many ideas in Danton's head. 

“It’s okay. They probably lost.” He feels weird watching T.V. at someone else’s place. 

“Wanna watch something else then?” At first, Sean is genuine but quickly turns mischievous. “Follow any reality T.V. shows?” 

“Sometimes I watch Hell’s Kitchen. It makes me feel better about the coaches I have.” 

The microwave dings. Sean hands Danton a cup and a spoon he picked out of the sink which may or may not be clean. 

“I think _Jersey Shore_ ruined all reality television for me. Nothing will ever be as good.” The response comes between Sean shoveling macaroni into his mouth. He talks with his mouth full. It shouldn’t be cute, but it is. 

“I never watched that. Looked over the top.” 

Danton had thought Sean was joking. As Sean slams his spoon on the counter, Danton realizes he has stronger opinions on this than expected. 

“That’s why it’s good! If I wanna see people going through a real crisis I’d look at my aunt’s Facebook.” Sean picks his spoon back up before adding another thought. “You gotta see the first episode, c’mon, it’s not like you were going to sleep after this anyway.” 

Trashy reality television is something Danton would object to 99.9% of the time. The .01% of the time he’ll give it a shot is when an attractive boy in Ohio asks Danton to watch with him while they share a blanket and pause constantly to have a conversation. So that’s what they do. 

The next morning Danton gets on the bus with no sleep, intrusive questions from his friends, and most importantly, Sean Kuraly’s phone number.  


\-------

None of Danton’s past relationships prepared him for how entranced he’d be by Sean. How he would stay up late texting Sean with nine am practice the next day, just so the conversation didn’t have to end. Or how Danton would pace his room when Sean sent a flirty text trying to work out a response. Often he turns to the guys for advice.

“What’d she say?” Brandon doesn’t look up from his homework to acknowledge Danton suddenly doing donuts around the room. This isn’t new to him.

“We’re talking about the worst classes we’ve had to take, right? So, I said public speaking because I’m bad at talking-”

“You have to actually do the talking to get good at it.” He interrupts while still typing an essay. 

Danton doesn’t want to stop his train of thought to retort, so instead he ruffles Brandon’s hair as he walks past and continues.

“And I get back this text, it’s all _‘I like your voice. You can read me textbooks or some erotic romance novels._ ” No matter how many times Danton does this, it never gets less embarrassing reading Sean’s suggestive comments out loud. 

The first response from Brandon is to snort at how obvious the sender is being with Danton. The second is to call Pasta and Jake in for assistance.

“Well, I definitely don’t think you have to worry about coming on too strong.” Jake assesses after a moment. Careful consideration at play like he’s helping Danton buy a new car.

A more eager to help Pasta pitches in. “Ask if you get to choose what books. ‘Cause then it’s like flirty, but not desperate.” 

All votes from the committee of straight men helping him flirt with a guy they think is a girl are in favor of Pasta’s suggestion.

Three weeks of talking pass and Sean starts leaving embarrassing comments on Danton’s Instagram. Nothing obvious, all comments that could have been left by a teammate. It ranges from Etsy links for pickup truck stickers when Danton posts about a country concert, to more flirty statements like “arm/leg day for you is Christmas for me.” 

Then comes the texts too intense to ask anyone for advice on. Sean telling Danton how attractive his hands and thighs are or sending him shirtless pictures. Messages that both turn him on and give him a panic attack.

Danton knows how it looks. He’s hooked up with Sean twice, asked for his number, texts him all the time even at one in the morning and during class. Not his most heterosexual behavior. At the same time, it feels temporary. A fever that will pass. Passion or puppy love or pleasure, the novelty that someone wants him around. 

The easiest way for Danton to deal with the question of sexuality is to ignore it completely. It works until Thanksgiving break. 

Thanksgiving weekend is just two extra days off for Danton, Pasta, and Jake. Being the mama’s boy Jake is, his mother comes down to do a weekend vacation with him and Danton and Pasta are left to their own devices. Those devices end up being a Criminal Mind marathon, taking over the rec room to play ping pong for three hours, and ordering one of everything from the Domino’s menu. 

Sean texts Danton asking if he can call two hours into Friday’s ping pong session with Pasta. It’s 11:43 PM where Sean is, and Danton feels his stomach twist in knots. 

He excuses himself to the empty laundry room to take the call and hoists himself on top of one of the machines.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out; I just need to talk to someone who isn’t driving me up the wall. I love my mom to death but she is trying to put me in the grave this weekend.” Sean is quick to explain after hearing the concern in Danton’s voice.

An audible breath of belief comes from Danton. “American sitcoms make holidays sound so terrible. You guys should cancel them next year.” 

Chuckling comes from Sean’s end of the line. “Oh yeah? What do Canadians do on holidays?”

“Play street hockey for six hours. Answer the same three questions. I get hammered since I have a chance at going pro, even though my sister got accepted into a psychology program. That should be way more important than hitting rubber for a living, but my uncle would rather ask me about stats he can Google.”

“I fucking hated holidays growing up. When my parents were still together, they’d yell at each other all day and my brother and I would blast the sound on _A Christmas Story_.” 

Exhaustion is evident in Sean’s voice. Danton tries to lighten the mood. 

“Ever get a BB gun?” 

“My parents were too afraid I’d shoot my brother's eye out.” 

“Not your own?” 

Soft laughter fills the space of words before Sean continues. Danton feels at home.

“I think it’s easier for me now that I got a shot at the NHL. Can sit and daydream about it when things start going haywire.” 

The silence that follows doesn’t have the same warmth as the one before it. There’s a lot Danton wants to say. How he gets anxious talking about hockey to his family because he knows that’s all he has of value to give them. Years spent omitting names of male friends he felt warmly of, just in case. 

Danton keeps that to himself. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’ll be okay. I’m getting alcohol tonight, so things will get easier.” 

“Fake ID?”

“Former coach sells to his past players. Don’t know if he’s too fond of the former fairy on the team but a buck is a buck, I guess.” The casual self-deprecation from Sean makes Danton wince.

In Vancouver, Danton and his friends would just get someone’s older brother to buy for them. They’d hide behind the store if they saw any adults they recognized and definitely weren’t drinking with then. 

“Isn’t that kind of a weird business for a coach to be in?” 

Even though Danton can’t see him, he’s sure Sean shrugs. “Columbus school system is broke, dude.” 

The rest of the conversation is spent talking about what they’d do if they lived during prohibition and plans for the weekend. When Sean has to let him go, they’ve been talking for an hour and a half. 

Pastrnak is lying on the floor, without pants, playing solitaire on his phone upon Danton’s return. 

“That your girl?” Pasta responds to the sound of footsteps without looking at Danton.

A lie comes out on reflex.

“Mom checking in on me. You know how she talks” 

Nothing about the conversation itself was sexual. Danton isn’t sure why he didn’t want to tell Pasta he was talking to Sean. People talk on the phone to their friends all the time. Deep down, Danton knows it’s because he doesn’t talk to his other friends the way he talks to Sean. 

The following morning, he wakes up to 27 texts from Sean following his adventures after Danton fell asleep. Sean stayed up until 4:36 AM at least.

This isn’t the first time Sean has live-texted a wild night. Nor is it the first time he has told Danton about other guys he’s been with. That’s not something Danton is bothered by. Sure, he likes Sean more than is normal, but it’s Danton’s fault that it hasn't led to anything. He isn’t ready for it to lead to anything and can’t make Sean wait for him to be ready.

So, Danton rates the Grindr screencaps Sean texts him from one to ten and tries not to overanalyze the situation. 

It’s different this time. Maybe it’s because of the phone call. Or the unusual situation itself.

_“Me and Connor just crossd the freeway and ddin’t get hit by a car. GTA has nothing on me!!!”_ Comes at 2:04 AM

_“Yo we’re having a debate, which would you rather be in: Lord of the Flies or The Outsiders?”_ Comes around a quarter to three. Danton’s answer, by the way, is _The Outsiders._

At 2:59 AM is _“Coach is making us come in through the backdoor wtf its not like its crack”_

There’s over an hour break before the final messages.

_“Just made out with my ex-coach lol”_ Arrives at 4:24 AM 

Normally, Danton takes time to read everything Sean sent him when he gets up and responds in depth before getting out of bed. It’s a little pathetic, and Brandon always makes fun of him for it under the assumption it’s some girl.

Danton takes a shower before responding today. He needs time to think.

Love, attraction, and relationships aren’t his strong suit. That was learned by how the first encounter with Sean ended. It’s probably for the best to mind his business and support Sean’s wild years.

None of that reasoning helps the anxiety Danton feels thinking over that final text.

He settles on a simple answer. “Did you at least get something expensive?” 

It’s not what needs to be said, but he can’t worry about it now. 

Thanksgiving break comes to an end and Danton tries to find meaning to his feeling at the school’s Gay-Straight Alliance meeting. The semester is closing out and finals week is near, meaning the club is nearly empty. 

Danton walks out after five minutes.

\------

Tonight is the kind of night Sean won’t tell his mother about.

It’s late and they are deep in the mountains. Sitting in a car driven by a Denver player named Brandon he met last time they lost to Miami. Brandon’s truck only fits five but they stuffed it with four RedHawks and four Pioneers.

Everything about the situation sounds like a skit the college puts on at freshman orientation. The ones about situations to avoid. 

The party sucked but Danton and Sean’s friends got along great. Not that it takes much for hockey players to vibe with each other. One conversation about things that are wonderfully gross led to an impromptu road trip to 7-Eleven. 

“So, when we get there, what flavor smoothie am I trying?” The Pioneer who called shotgun asks. Everyone calls him Pasta, which Sean knows from too many goals scored on the RedHawks comes from Pastrnak. Sean never got his first name.

“It’s a _Slurpee_. And get cherry.” Jake yells from the opposite side of the back seat.

His correction is met with a wave of Pasta’s hand. “Same thing.”

“If you think it’ll taste anything like a smoothie this is gonna end badly.” 

The comment comes from behind Sean’s head, startling him momentarily until he remembers that he’s sitting on Danton’s lap. No one thought anything of it considering the small car and how Jake was also sitting on Charlie. Regardless, Sean’s heart races if he thinks about it too long.

Sean contributes to distract himself. “Do something interesting, mix pina colada with blue raspberry. It’s not as gross as it sounds.”

“It’s his first ever Slurpee. You gotta go with the classic and get Coke.” Matt weighs in from his squished spot in the middle seat. 

“I’ll get what doesn’t look like toxic waste.” A now regretful Pasta puts an end to the discussion. Following his lead, Brandon fiddles with the radio before landing on Country Roads and raising a fist in the air. A fitting selection as they drive down a hill.

“I hate this song.” Sean groans, because he hates this song.

The counter-argument from Brandon is singing at the top of his lungs. Danton joins in and belts lyrics in Sean’s ear, wrapping his arms around Sean so he can’t move away no matter how much he squirms.

All eight boys spend a combined $63.82 on food. Their order features Anders and Jake’s extra-large Big Gulps mixed with every available soda flavor and a medium blue raspberry Slurpee for Pasta. 

In the popped trunk of Brandon’s car parked in the lot, they fight over the aux cord and subject each other to the worst songs in their music library. Sean plays A Thousand Miles as revenge for the earlier country music, but everyone is way into it. 

Alcohol appearing isn’t a conscious decision; it just happens the way it always does with college boys. 

“You should mix some of this with your big gulp, really top it off.” Charlie takes one of their not discrete water bottles filled with vodka and leans it toward Anders’ drink. 

Cheers come from the boys with only one objection from Brandon. “No one throws up in my car or I’m sending a Venmo request.” 

It starts to show that Anders is not into the idea by how he hesitates, but is too scared to object. Sean isn’t sure if anyone notices or if he should step in until Danton yanks the bottle from Charlie and pours it into his own Slurpee. 

In a way, it’s noble. He looks at Danton fondly when he chugs the multicolored mess and lays on the roof singing _Sweet Home Alabama._

The glory lasts for thirty more minutes of karaoke before Danton sprints off to puke in the bushes. No one wants to be the one to babysit him, so it’s only charitable for Sean to be the one to Uber them home while everyone else enjoys the night. Danton isn’t a sloppy drunk, anyway. 

“Sean. I smell bad. Worse than you do after a game,” declares Danton after their twenty-minute trek back to the dorm. 

“You sure know how to make me feel sexy.” Sean deadpans as he drapes Danton over the couch and considers his next move. 

The original plan was to throw Danton into bed, put a clean shirt on him, and wait for Brandon to come home. Fluorescent lights in the apartment highlight the mess of liquid in Danton’s hair. Sean needs to think of a plan B. 

In Danton’s current state, Sean doesn’t feel comfortable getting him into the shower. He doesn’t trust that they both won’t slip and die and doesn’t want to undress Danton when he’s too drunk to argue otherwise. If it’s only his hair that needs cleaning, the sink can do. 

“C’mon Danny, we’re gonna DIY this.”

Danton grunts in response as Sean pulls a chair over, sits him down, and adjusts him so his head is over the sink. 

Cold water hits Danton as the sink warms up. He sobers immediately. 

“What the fuck!” Danton yelps and jerks his head up. The motion gets water all over the two of them.

“I’m not a fucking shampoo girl, work with me here.” His response isn’t gentle, and neither are Sean’s hands pushing his head back down. Danton smiles at Sean and complies. 

This isn’t a plan Sean thought through. Generic orange dish soap becomes shampoo and does the trick of getting remains of vodka and Slurpee out of hair. 

With that taken care of, Sean slows his movements and drags his fingertips along Danton’s scalp rather than scrubbing. Running his nails behind the other boys' ears and tracing circles under his hair. Sean can’t help but enjoy how relaxed Danton looks for once and the way he smiles at the motions. 

A now cleaned up Danton’s face lights up with a more sober temperament. Wide smiles from Danton are a rarity and Sean is sure not to take it for granted. It feels like looking at a picture that would appear next to “good-natured” in the dictionary. It feels like walking past a bakery. 

“You’re really beautiful.” Sean blurts out without fearing any consequences. 

Freezing water doesn’t lessen Danton’s blush. “You tell that to all the boys who puke on themselves?”

“Only if they beat me at hockey.”

Danton is sober enough now to change into pajamas and brush his teeth on his own. He walks around in flannel pajama pants and damp hair, helping Sean clean up spilled water without being asked. 

It makes Sean think of a future outside of hockey. One with a guy that's clever and funny and empathetic the way Danton is. An idea of happiness that doesn’t appear on the score sheet.

“You wanna hang out? Just talk or something.” Suggests Danton, and Sean can tell he genuinely means just hang out and talk. 

He’s fucked. 

Things get worse when Danton gives Sean something to change into because his clothes got wet from the sink. One of his white and red Denver Pioneer sweatshirts with Danton’s number on the back.

“Nice team spirit.” 

“This some kind of power thing?” Sean won’t admit that he kinda likes wearing Danton’s clothes. 

They do talk. About why they picked their numbers and the weirdest things to happen at their local churches, urban legends, and land on what they’d do if they weren’t playing hockey. 

“I think I’d wanna work a fire lookout tower. Be alone and not get bored ‘cause I could explore. Befriend a deer.” Danton lies in his bed with Sean, both staring at the ceiling. Placed between them is Sean’s phone blasting a playlist that was inspired by Danton. Sean doesn’t tell him that.

“Basically, you wanna be a Disney princess.”

It gets a laugh out of Danton. “I hear that pays well.” 

“If I didn’t play, well, the plan was to be some kind of manager or broadcaster if I couldn’t make it. But if I wasn’t doing anything related to hockey? I don’t even know.” It isn’t something Sean has really considered. Hockey is the only thing he has to hold onto.

He feels Danton turn to look at him. “I could see you in journalism. Breaking a big story on how McDonald’s is feeding us other humans.” 

“No way. If they are I don’t wanna know, let me eat my Happy Meal in peace.” Sean repositions himself to face Danton. “There’s nowhere else I’d feel as close to comfortable in. Like, I’m pretty happy at college and with my friends and playing hockey. But I can’t completely put my guard down or be myself without losing those places. Except maybe right this second.” 

“What’s different right now?”

Eye contact is broken. It’s too hard for Sean to look at him. “I trust you. Completely. Even when you disagree with me, you try to understand what I’m saying. And you send me articles on the Blue Jackets even though you don’t give a fuck about the Blue Jackets. If you don’t get it, you’ll try to and listen to me.” 

Sean hopes the shaking in his voice isn’t evident. Hopes Danton isn’t going to laugh at him, text all his teammates this. 

“Hey, look at me,” Danton requests. 

As impossible as it seems, Sean manages it and is rewarded by Danton placing a hand on his face and kissing him. Not as a build up to anything, not as a prerequisite to sex like when they’ve kissed before. Just to do it. To be gentle. 

“I trust you, too.” 

Sean knows he can fall hard for Danton if he lets himself. If he hasn’t already. 

The trip back to Ohio is rough. Being without Danton feels impossible. 

Every conversation the following week feels like sleepwalking. More games are played and Sean gets two assists. More video games, more parties, more drinking, but it’s just passing time. Sean can’t tell what this feeling is. Things aren’t bad; they’re so much better than they used to be, but last week made him crave more. 

He doesn’t come back to earth until the bus ride home from a 3-2 win against Notre Dame. On a deadly quiet bus, Sean looks at posts Danton has been tagged in on Instagram to pass the time and assist in his daydreaming.

There are three new posts. Two are from college hockey photographers, generic pictures of Danton shooting the puck with his hair sticking out of his helmet. Sean may or may not screenshot them.

The third is from a friend, a picture of him eating breakfast. Bowl of fruit, for the nutritionist of course, and some eggs. A caption reading “This guy makes waking up early for a date worth it” and it’s not from someone Sean has seen before. A user named Nora Parker. Sean does recognize that name, Danton has mentioned over text that she’s in a few of his classes. That she’s asked him out before. 

Sean’s stomach drops and he deletes the app.

**Junior Year**

There are games where no matter what anyone tries, it feels like trying to put a square peg in a round hole for sixty minutes. Sean wishes it didn’t have to happen against Denver.

Frustration sours the locker room following a 5-2 loss and Sean wishes he could focus on his coach’s lecture. That he could process any of the words being yelled instead of replaying Danton skating past him to celebrate his goal on repeat. Each time he notices something new about it. How Danton’s hair has gotten longer since Sean last saw him. Or the brand new “A” on the front of his jersey. 

Sean would rather feel bad about playing like shit than feel bad about a boy he keeps making the same mistakes with. This is why he’s always put hockey first. Why he should have never forgotten that.

Being in the locker room, in the same building as the game just played, is suffocating. Sean tries to scurry out before anyone can talk to him and almost makes it out unscathed before he feels someone lightly grab his arm. He turns to see Anders smiling at him with his backward hat and a starter jacket on.

“Hey, I know there's not good vibes around right now, but we’re gonna drunk minigolf with some of the Pioneers and turn the night around. You in?” 

The question is nearly whispered, gentler than Anders’ usual friendly but excitable voice. There are few people who genuinely care so consistently the way Anders can. It makes lying to him so much harder.

“You know, I’m gonna have a night in and reset a bit. Tell the boys hi for me.” He doesn’t look Anders in the eye and turns away before he gets a response. Doesn’t need the guilt. 

Avoiding Danton isn’t the only reason for rejecting the offer. Sean has other plans tonight. 

It started in Dublin over the summer, when Sean got so bored and lonely he found himself actually missing being in school. Most of his friends from high school stopped talking to him after he was outed senior year, leaving Sean alone to work out all day and binge YouTube videos in his room all night. 

Nights wore him down the most. Inevitably, he’d creep high school teammates’ social media and see the trouble they were getting into. Pictures of their drunken nights with faceless girlfriends on standby, eventually switching to stalking Danton’s social media and realizing he’d become a face in a drunken photo with a standard girlfriend one day. Sometimes he’d text Charlie or Matt or Anders, but they had their own friends to visit and parties to attend. 

Summer felt like senior year all over again. 

Three weeks of solitary nights brought Sean to text a number he only used when the vodka or gin bottles under his bed ran low, Coach Bryant from high school. 

Scott Bryant is not someone Sean expected to talk to after graduation. A notable coach and trainer in the state of Ohio for over ten years, Bryant is someone who influenced Sean’s decision of what high school to attend. He was a total hardass, but Sean got into a division one school. Who is he to complain? 

The only time he ever questioned his decision was when rumors started to swirl around Sean’s sexuality. When his own teammates started to threaten him for looking the wrong way in the locker room and when Bryant would leave the room without stopping the abuse.

He was the last person Sean expected to be kissing three years later, but he found himself in a world of surprises that summer when drunk and needing a distraction.

The affair ended with the summer. Well, that’s what Sean tried to tell himself before seeing Denver on the calendar. He texts Bryant out of desperation to make plans and meet in Dayton instead of falling back into bad habits with Danton.

No one knows where he’s going. There is no one he could tell. None of his friends got it when Sean tried to explain.

“Isn’t he like, sixty or something?” Was Charlie’s initial reaction between a scrunched nose and narrow eyes. 

Sean countered him with a roll of his eyes. “He’s in his early forties, don’t be dramatic.”

It didn’t reassure Charlie any, and Matt was quick to back him up. “You really can’t find someone else to fuck? A lot of people have fakes and can get alcohol. You’re not a bad looking kid.”

“Get a guy who doesn’t need Viagra.” An agreement came from Charlie. 

Sean doesn’t attempt to explain how comforting it is to be with someone who needs him more than he needs them. No risk of falling in love with them only for them to get a girlfriend. 

He dropped the subject and never brings it back up.

There’s no fooling him into thinking Bryant’s a half decent partner. Summer nights spent sneaking into his den when his wife was out and walking home alone after their exchange taught him as much. Low expectations and straightforward nature are what Sean needs right now. 

Driving down Dayton streets, past unlit churches and falling apart bars, Sean feels comfort in the lack of attachment. Safety in the ability to walk away at any time. 

He pulls into a particular church sandwiched between a park and a gas station, hidden where street lights don’t touch. There’s only one car in the lot. 

“Game didn’t go so well?” Bryant's voice greets him as soon as he opens the car door. The only way to pinpoint him is a vague outline and the tip of a red cigarette that Sean can’t help but think is the reason he’s still only coaching high schoolers in Ohio. 

“Shut up.” Sean feels too bitter to play along. Neither of them is here to play nice. That much is obvious as they drop any formalities once in each other's personal space and start kissing. 

The cigarette in Bryant’s hand is abandoned in favor of grabbing Sean’s hip and positioning him on the grass. Even this feels like a dream state. Like working a machine, or laps at the end practices. 

Kissing him tastes stale, like metal, making Sean decide he should get on with it and drop to his knees. It’s not so much that he’s ecstatic to suck dick or anything, but Sean knows he’s good at it. Tonight he needs to do well at something and to be told he’s doing well.

This is the way it’s gone for weeks, a routine he’s more than an expert in. There’s no difference from this and the drive over here.

Bryant grabs Sean’s hair and pushes him off, back into the grass.

“Bad service?” Sean wipes his mouth and hisses.

“I didn’t come all this way for one cheap blowjob.” The voice is teasing but not friendly coming from the figure standing over him. A sharp pain shoots through Sean. In the back of his mind, he remembers reading that panic attack symptoms feel like heart attacks. WebMD or something. 

“You want an expensive one? Buy me two bottles of Bailey’s and you can fuck my mouth.” 

Bryant snorts. Sean isn’t sure he made the right decision anymore. 

“It cost gas to get out here too. Think an upcharge is in order.”

There’s no question, just a demand. His palms feel sweaty as he recalls Charlie’s worried expression when he told him about everything a month ago. It’s time to leave. 

“No deal. Keep the alcohol, half a blowjob covers gas.” Sean wipes the grass off his jeans and walks towards the car. Each step is faster than the last. His hands shake so hard he can barely hold his car keys. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Only two things matter: not dropping his keys and getting to his car. Is this what people mean when they talk about tunnel vision? 

It’s a bit too effective because Sean doesn’t hear footsteps coming up from behind him until it’s too late. He makes it all the way to the car, focusing on getting his hand still enough to put his keys in the car door before becoming aware of the physical presence behind him. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, or a car he can’t get open and the guy he just pissed off. 

The key finally clicks in place and Bryant grabs Sean’s collar and tugs him back. Sean is not a small guy, he’s seen his fitness evaluation chart, but he wasn’t expecting this to become physical. This isn’t even like getting checked at a game. No equipment to take the blow and all he can do is flail before he hits the pavement and gravel scratches his chin and cheekbones. 

Faced with a fight or flight decision, Sean chooses to fight.

Years of hockey haven’t taught him that much about fighting, surprisingly enough. Face washing and shoving, sure, but not clean one-on-one fist fights. He pushes himself up by the palms of his hands and figures that the unexpected and speed are his best allies as he turns to face Bryant.

Sean doesn’t even get a punch in. As soon as he turns around, Sean’s hit in the nose and falls back on the ground. 

Fight response is out, freezing becomes the default. Maybe if he plays dead, Bryant will be over it and he can go home and come up with a lie to tell his teammates. 

A minute or an hour passes of lying on the ground. Sirens are coming towards the lot.

“You son of a bitch-”

The damn gas station was still open. Must have heard the commotion. 

He could lose his scholarship over this, his roster spot, his spot at the college, his everything. Despite that, he has no energy to run. Too fatigued to have any fight left.

No longer going through the motions, Sean feels he has disappeared completely. Watching the police officer ask them questions from outside his body and unable to hear his own answers. They come to the conclusion that Sean isn’t at fault here from his bloody nose and scraped up chin. 

Both of them are brought to the station, but only one is handcuffed, and it isn’t Sean. 

Sean doesn’t feel present again until sitting at a desk in the lobby of the police station that resembles a school cafeteria. It’s as if he fades back into real life. 

“You’re a student at Miami?” The officer taking the report asks. Her dark hair pulled back and harsh lighting of the precinct reveal wrinkles earned from too many nights like this. Right now must barely register. 

“Yeah, junior.” Sean attempts to put confidence behind his voice and meet her eye. Trying to seem somewhat responsible for himself.

There’s no fooling her. The officer raises an eyebrow. “Probably don’t want them to hear about this, then. They’ll do an investigation of their own.” 

He only nods this time.

“Get someone to pick you up, your car’s a couple of miles out and you shouldn’t be driving. You don’t press charges, no one finds out. It’s up to you what happens after.” 

It’s a generous offer, one that keeps him from having to explain this to Miami’s athletic director. Except he’s not sure who he can call to get him that won’t go to the school anyway. 

A plan comes together while washing the blood off his face in the bathroom. With a cellphone on 34% and a leap of faith, he makes the 2 A.M. phone call to Matt.

“I need a favor. No questions asked.” Sean keeps an even voice to avoid tipping him off. 

“Shoot.” 

Lucky for him, Matt sounds sober and not too alarmed by the request. The kid always has rolled with the punches.

This next sentence will be harder to get past him. Sean leans against the wall. It’s freezing out for October. “You still with the Pioneer boys? Is Dan there? He sober?”

“All true. What’s up?” 

Sean takes a deep breath.

“No questions asked, I mean none. Give him the keys to your car, tell him to look out for a text from me with my location. Need him to pick me up.”

Maybe Danton will hate him for this, but Sean’s okay with that. It’s possible he already does. The alternative is going to friends who care about him too much not to question why he needed to be picked up from Dayton with a messed up face. If Danton has his own concerns, the mutually assured destruction from when they hooked up means Sean could blackmail him to stay quiet. 

The pause is finally broken. “You sure you don’t need anything else? Like, is this-”

“You owe me, Grz. Don’t make me bring up the toilet paper incident.” 

Matt lets out a long sigh. “Alright. Just, be safe okay? If I’m knocked out when you get back at least wake me up to let me know you’re alive.” With Matt’s worry comes Sean's sigh of relief. 

“Of course, be home soon, don’t keep the kids waiting up for me.” Sean’s grin is evident in his voice. The first time he’s smiled in a few hours. 

He gets hung up on, but knows Matt laughed. 

Miami University is an hour away. Between a nearly dead phone and the unwelcoming company of cops, the only thing to do to pass the time is talk to himself and count the tiles. Counting gets boring real quick.

Sean normally enjoys self-reflection. Late night conversations on the bus home with Charlie or reading inspirational books his mother left on the coffee table when bored are his shit. This isn’t really like those times. 

This is more like the time he attacked his friend sophomore year of high school over an argument that unnecessarily escalated. Sitting in the bench outside the principal's office with his mother asking what the hell happened. How he could be so unlike himself and how, as impulsive and daring as he could get, he isn’t this stupid. 

He had wanted the answers just as much as his mom had then. Wanted to know what he’s even asking himself now. 

“Sean?”

The night has been a train wreck. Seeing Danton standing there, hesitant, in his beanie and an olive green jacket is like seeing a rescue worker. His knees feel weak. It hardly bothers him. 

Danton’s face softens as Sean looks up at him, worry still tracing lines around his eyes. “Let's get you home.”

\----------

It’s worse than Danton had thought.

Okay, maybe not. He’s an anxious person and imagined scenarios of picking Sean up from a drug bust when the location came up on his GPS. It only felt worse because physically seeing the busted nose on Sean felt more nauseating than any _Breaking Bad_ scenario he could conjure. 

Sean has the same poker face as when Danton’s taken faceoffs against him. A face he hasn’t seen off the ice much, distant and aloof rather than the welcoming look he’s used to in between watered down beers. Not a word has been said since they started driving. 

The hour ride east was good for creating a plan. Sean is too spaced out to piece it together until Danton parks outside the 7-Eleven just off the highway. 

“You can stay, I’m just gonna grab water and snacks,” Danton informs him in the gentlest voice he can give. After the night Sean has had, whatever happened, he should get something in his stomach. Sean gives a slight nod and leans his head against the window pane. 

Danton grabs a bag of potato chips, two bottles of water, and a blue raspberry and pina colada mix Slurpee. He sneaks a sip in while waiting to pay and realizes Sean was right: it’s not as gross as it sounds.

Seven dollars and forty-three cents is a small price to pay to see Sean smile faintly for the first time that night. With some power behind his voice, Sean mixes the straw around and says “Surprised you remembered.” 

“Hard to forget.” 

Danton hopes this doesn't make him seem weird.

Three miles pass of only the sounds of traffic filling the car before Danton cracks. “So, you...wanna talk about it?”

Sean must have known it was coming eventually. Of course, being himself, he still takes his time finishing a handful of chips and sipping on his drink before responding.

“You ever had a surprise party?” Questions Sean with an earnest look.

It’s not what Danton expected to hear but doesn’t faze Sean for a second. If this is what he’s being given, Danton will roll with it.

“My mom tried three times, but she sucks at planning and secrets.” He takes a pause as he switches lanes. “Made up for it with hockey jerseys.” 

With a mouth full of chips, Sean builds off the question. 

“We had one when I was like, twelve, and everyone did them. I think all the parents had a pact. Except she invited some kids that my friends and I hated, and I figured it would be fine ‘cause it’s outside of school and that’s basically a truce when you’re twelve. 

“And it was fine, we played soccer in the backyard and ate. Until it came time for everyone to give gifts and one of them got me _Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret_ and I opened it in front of everyone.” 

Between the actual content itself and Sean’s storytelling marked by all the right pauses, it’s impossible for Danton not to laugh. The loud cackles are intertwined with apologies for laughing. 

“No, you should laugh. It’s funny now, but at the time I was pissed. I jumped on this kid, all one hundred pounds of twelve-year-old me, and got in trouble at my own birthday party. My mom made me give back every gift. Not gonna act like it was a defining moment or anything, just one that amuses cute boys who drive me and a good example of why I hate situations I can’t control.” 

A blush covers Danton’s face from the “cute boys” comment. He decides not to address that. “Little weird to play a sport then?” 

“In hockey, I can train and have a coach and work with my teammates. What I’m talking about is...I’m in a better mindset on a team that is consistently shitty than a team that’s always up and down. ‘Cause I know what the situation is, and I can work on fixing it.”

Danton can’t help but wonder if this has anything to do with everything that’s happened between the two of them, and what that has to do with being at a police station in Dayton at two in the morning. “You’re worrying me a little bit.”

Thirty minutes out from the college. Bus call is in six hours. Danton can do this. 

Sean throws the now empty bag of chips to the ground. Hopefully, Matt doesn’t mind. 

“You remember that guy I was talking to last year, the one who used to coach me? I mess around with him sometimes and I knew it was a bad idea but thought I’d be fine ‘cause I wasn’t expecting anything, but it got a little out of hand.”

It comes out in one breath. There’s not anything Danton can think to say. This is the time to shut up and listen.

Silence is the cue for Sean to continue. “I don’t know why I’m being fucking poetic about it. I got punched because I wouldn’t let him full on fuck me in some parking lot and the police got called by a midnight gas station worker.” 

Despite Sean’s neutral facial expression, Danton catches his voice break at the end of the sentence. The rush of words was a failed attempt not to let any emotion get past.

“Sean-”

“Please don’t yell at me right now.”

A car tries to merge into their lane too close for comfort. Danton brakes harshly, then tries again. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” It may be the most sincere thing Danton has said in his life. An audible sigh of relief comes from Sean. “And I’m glad you called. Even if you don’t like relying on others or whatever was the point of the Judy Bloom story, it’s okay to ask for help. Good, actually.”

The remaining twenty minutes of the ride is filled with silence and Danton’s anxiety that he pissed Sean off. When he was told college would be filled with all-nighters, he didn’t have this in mind. 

Neither makes a move to exit the car when Danton pulls into the spot where Matt had given him the keys. 

How do you say goodnight to someone who you haven’t talked to in months and just saw for the first time after picking them up from the police station? Someone who sat on your lap in a crowded car and washed your hair? The person who you drove a strangers car an hour out for in a state you don’t live in at two a.m. while ignoring your girlfriend's texts? 

Sean’s answer to those unspoken questions is leaning in to kiss Danton. Not kissing back and pulling away is maybe the hardest thing Danton’s had to do all year. 

“You've had a long night, I don’t want you to…” Danton starts with an honest ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ response. 

Not that Sean believes it. He practically jumps back to his side of the car, shoulders slumped. 

“Yeah, it’s probably best if I didn’t.” 

The “I” sticks out to Danton. He knows he shouldn’t help place the blame on Sean; he definitely contributes. “Besides, I’m still dating my girlfriend.” 

Until now, Danton didn’t know telling the truth could feel this much like lying. Being faithful to his girlfriend isn’t the part he regrets; she deserves that much. What feels dishonest is dating someone knowing he’s only doing so to avoid what’s in front of him. That sometimes it feels like more of an obligation than the magic you see in movies. Or that sometimes is really most of the time. 

He could love Sean so easily if he let himself. Could love men just as easily. 

“You should text me tomorrow. You know, let me know how you feel. I could help you come up with a cool story on how you hurt your nose.” Is all Danton can offer for now with his fingers wrapped around the door handle. 

Sitting as far from Danton as he physically can now, Sean finally looks up at him. “I’d like that.”

\--------

Sean didn’t expect a night at the police station to be the cause behind him talking to Danton again.

It started when Sean sent a quick text the following morning to assure Danton he was still alive. A short conversation, more courtesy than anything. The kind that left Sean wanting more even though realistically he knows better. 

Another week passes before Sean hears from Danton again. The most surprising part is that Danton is the one who texts first. 

Never before had Sean been so happy to see a video of a Canuck scoring on the Blue Jackets.

_“Pretty weak one, you think?”_ Danton captions the video.

_“Looks like the shortie I scored on Denver last season. Remember that?”_

_“I don’t get caught up in my glory days. New season.”_

Sean’s glad no one’s around to see how wide he grins at the text. If any of his teammates were here they’d be demanding to see who he is texting. 

The initiating text, even if it was just to make fun of his team, was the permission Sean has been waiting for to start a conversation of his own. This time, he only waits two days (Sean never believed in the three-day rule Charlie tried to push on all of them) between conversations.

A single sentence takes Sean an hour to draft. _“Just found out Twilight filmed in Vancouver...did you meet any of them?”_

It’s a total lie; Sean learned about that when the movie came out, and he feels like a moron the second he clicks send. He has a staring contest with his phone waiting for the indication Danton is typing. Finally, Sean gets back a message.

_“No, but one time I ran into Hugh Jackman twice in the same day.”_

Proper punctuation shouldn’t be endearing, but Sean can’t help it with Danton. 

There becomes a pattern of short conversations every few days, that become long conversations every day and a half until it transitions back to near nonstop texting again. 

Which, of course, all leads back to flirting with each other again.

_“My worst date was my prom date. This girl asked me but she really wanted to go with some other guy her parents didn’t like. I was the decoy date. Didn’t even wanna in the first place but if I didn’t no one would ever shut up about it.”_ Danton explains to him over iMessage one Saturday afternoon. 

_“Must have been a real goody two shoes.”_ The teasing is meant to cover up how charmed Sean is by the story. He hopes it works. 

_“Parents in Vancouver love hockey players. Unless they also played. Then they hate us because they know what we’re really like.”_

Sean types several responses before deciding on a more risky one. _“I could make up for it. Take you somewhere really nice.”_

At this point, Sean’s heart racing when talking to Danton is the norm.

_“Like where?”_

_“Maybe a baseball game so I can get you a corndog and you can experience real America.”_ This is something Sean has put thought into, daydreaming when he is supposed to be paying attention in class. _“Or the national parks we have near Columbus. They probably look like shit compared to Vancouver so I’d like to hear what you think of it.”_

The indication that Danton is typing appears and disappears several times until he finally sends something back. _“I’d like that. Will you bring a cowbell to the baseball game too?”_

No one is around to see Sean fistbump at the message. 

Midterms come and go with late night study sessions that, at one sleep deprived point, end with Matt beatboxing. He doesn’t sleep until three in the morning for a week straight. Hearing that Danton is “winging” his midterms while Sean is writing a twenty-page business plan isn’t exactly comforting. Well, until he realizes if that is the case, then the only reason Danton is staying up late is to talk to him. 

Friday comes with one of the senior RedHawks bringing coolers for everyone on the team in celebration of surviving the week. Drunk Mario Kart and Anders’ DJ choices keep him from checking his phone, meaning he doesn’t read the text from Danton until twenty minutes after it is delivered.

_“I just broke up with Nora.”_

This is not the phone call he should make drunk. Not after everything and not with how he still feels. He knows this. But he also knows there’s a reason Danton texted him about this.

In a fire escape after midnight, Sean takes the risk. Danton doesn’t sound desperate for comfort. He seems happier Sean cared enough to reach out than sad about the breakup.

“I’m not torn up about it. It was kinda boring, actually.” The breakup may not be bothering Danton, but Sean can tell something else is by how far away he’s sounding. “I always end up feeling like an unhappy husband, you know? Like the ones who sit in the garage so they don’t have to eat dinner with their wives. Except I don’t own any tools.” 

“Well, what do you want in a relationship?” Sean prompts as if he could even answer that for himself. 

Frustration seeps through on Danton’s end. “That’s the issue. What’s a good relationship supposed to feel like?” 

After the night in Dayton, Sean probably isn’t considered an expert on romance. He picks at paint chips in the stairwell in hopes the answer can be found under them. 

Danton sighs and breaks the silence. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’re not gonna ask how I knew I was gay, are you?”

“God, no. That’s what Yahoo Answers is for,” Danton says it so seriously that Sean can’t help but laugh.

“Then shoot.”

“What’s it like to date a guy? What do you like about it, or about...dating in general.” 

This feels like bait. Bait that Sean is more than willing to take.

“Alright, I’m not a poet, so don’t laugh.” Sean takes a breath and a moment to think, think about what he’s wanted versus what he’s felt he’s deserved. 

“You know how you have a few different circles of friends, and you go to them for different things you wanna talk about or need? Well, they should still all be there, but dating someone should be like when that person can step in and help with any of those needs. The ultimate partner in crime, you know?

“I like when I’m with a guy and maybe we’re teasing each other and then he like, puts a hand on my hips. And instead of trying to one-up each other by putting the other down we switch to trying to see who can make the other feel the best. I’m always a competitive guy. It’s nice that someone has your back, but it feels even better to give that support to someone else. Have someone you know deserves it do well.” 

As sweet as they are, the words feel sour coming out of his mouth. Sean has never grown accustomed to talking about love or being gay, not without some kind of punch line. It almost feels like he’s waiting for one, waiting for Danton to ridicule him even though Sean knows he's not like that. 

“Put it better than I ever could. I don’t know if I could expect that much.”

It’s a leap of faith, but Sean decides to go for it.

“What do you like about being with me?” 

This answer comes from Danton immediately. If Sean didn’t know better, he’d think Danton had been waiting to be asked. 

“You’re so clever, Sean, not like anyone I’ve ever known. You’re the person I’d pick to go on both _Jersey Shore_ and _Survivor_ with, you work the room and make it fun. I’d also pick you to be in my zombie survival camp because you, well, you make everything seem okay.” Danton says it all so earnestly, almost desperately and Sean feels winded just from hearing it. 

How does one even respond to that? Danton has to step in and fill the silence while Sean struggles to find the words.

“Sometimes being around you is like having a five-goal lead, and sometimes it feels like scoring the game-winner in overtime. But it never feels like losing.”

It’s strange how someone can make you feel like you can’t breathe and can run a mile at the same time. Sean just hopes there won’t be a picture with Danton and some other girl floating around next week. 

“If I take you to a baseball game…would you share giant cotton candy with me?” An answer finally comes from Sean. Eyes closed shut, back against the cold cement wall. 

“Of course.” 

“Take a cheesy picture of us eating it too and filter the shit out of it?”

There’s a giddiness that can’t be contained in Danton’s voice. “What would be the point of going if we didn’t?”

\-------

Shock must be obvious on Sean’s face.

The group of teammates around him all stare at him puzzled after Matt interrupts Anders’ story to ask “You alright?” 

“Yeah, I uh...just read something. Clickbait.” 

A few blinks and shrugs come his way before returning to Anders’ story about accidentally playing for the basketball team for a week. No one wants to interrogate Sean in the middle of the dining hall. 

He isn’t entirely lying. Something weird did pop up on his phone, but not a BuzzFeed article about the top ten government secrets. Instead, he received nudes from the guy he had convinced himself he is finally just friends with. At two in the afternoon. 

After the phone call on the night of Danton’s break up, they had gone back to acting as if nothing happened. Sean wasn’t going to complain. Platonic or not, at least Danton was still talking to him. 

Not being able to really look, nonetheless enjoy, Sean sends Danton a quick text back that only says: _“Don’t you know horny hours are after 7???”_

Typing it doesn’t speak that into existence, doesn’t keep Sean’s mind from wandering during his three-hour class after lunch. Coming home to an empty apartment is a relief and he’s quick to dial Danton’s number. 

“What was _that_ about?” Sean doesn’t give Danton time to say hello and receives a light laugh in return. 

“I wanted opinions on my new shower curtain.” 

“Asshole.” The words don’t sound the least bit threatening. Sean lets himself fall into a fit of giggles with Danton.

Laughter stops and tension begins. Danton is barely above a whisper when he asks “What did you think?”

Almost popping a boner in front of your teammates during lunch seems like a good enough reason for Sean to give Danton a hard time. 

“I think you need to learn the art of taking nudes. Clearly, this was your first time. The lighting eliminated any detail and dude, what’s with you still wearing a hat?” By some miracle, Sean is able to get through the sentence without faltering.

“I was having a bad hair day!” A fake offended rebuttal comes from Danton. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I obviously loved the subject-”

“You’ve given positive reviews in the past.”

“But it’s hard when I miss seeing you in person so much.” Sean's sentence comes out more coy than he intended. 

Danton’s blush is nearly audible. “How do I make it as close as possible?”

It’s the first time Sean has ever had phone sex, and it’s way more awkward than in the movies. That may be part of the charm, the way he ends up lying on his bed next to a pile of his clothes, out of breath. Completely smitten. 

“Danny, you’re not going to…” Sean sighs and starts again. There are questions he doesn’t want to ask this quickly but needs to for his own peace of mind. “I know this gets confusing, but before you go into a gay panic again, will you be clear what you want? I’m a little over the fuck and run thing.”

The question doesn’t blindside Danton. He must have been waiting for this.

“I’ve been thinking about it. This time I want to do it right, it’s….that night when I borrowed Matt’s car, I was so mad. At that guy for doing that to you. When you told me what happened I wanted to make a U-turn and drive all the way back to Dayton to run that guy over with my car. Except I’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite.”

“That was nothing like-” 

“Wasn’t it? I kept putting myself first and only talking to you when I wanted something.” 

His comparison makes Sean’s skin crawl and his blood boil. “But it was always me you wanted. He just wanted somewhere to stick it for thirty minutes.” 

“It doesn’t matter, I never asked what you needed.” Danton’s voice is hard to read, uncompromising in a way that frustrates Sean. 

“Don’t be a dumbass, you know what the answer to that is.” 

With the other line gone silent, it’s enough confirmation for Sean that Danton does know the answer.

A soft complaint comes through the speakers. Sean wonders if it’s meant for him when he hears Danton say. “I only want what I can’t have.” 

Sean has never been, nor will ever be, that gentle.

“You have me, I swear to god.”

“But it’s not just you and me, there’s everything else. There’s everything I know and planned for myself and that all changes. I won’t have anything stable left.” From the other end, Sean can tell Danton's breaths are getting shallow. Like the night they first met. 

There is nothing more in the world Sean wants than to tell Danton that it’ll be alright, he can make that jump. Considering how the last few years of his life have been and how only now has he been able to string four friends together that know he’s gay, he refuses to lie. 

“How’d your speech go? The one on how to prank your coach you gave for your midterm?” Danton tries to change the subject, and damn if Sean won’t let him.

Twenty minutes of their phone conversation is spent with Sean dramatically retelling how his midterm went, including Charlie and Matt throwing paper at him when the teacher wasn’t looking but sixty kids were. Time well spent to hear Danton calm down and laugh. 

For that moment, Sean hopes he has Danton too.

\------------

Only six Denver Pioneers live in their athletic housing, but sometimes it feels like half the school has a key. Like the time Danton walked in on someone's girlfriend having a seance in his bedroom. Or right now, when Brandon has brought back a Philadelphia Flyers fan to their apartment to watch a game. On the night the Vancouver Canucks are playing them.

Danton barely has time to watch the NHL anymore between his own games and practices. He’s ten minutes into the game, pretending to study, when Brandon and two friends of his plop down on the couch across from him. One of them is a soccer player from Texas with little knowledge of hockey, presumably over so Brandon and the other can teach him hockey. Which he’s fine with, grow the game as they tell him. He’s less fine with it when the red-headed girl who Danton believes is on the club hockey team insults the Sedins in her thick Philly accent. 

“The Sedins make Giroux look like a fourth liner.” Danton doesn’t look up from his work, that he’s not really working on, to make the comment.

Both Brandon and his soccer friend turn to the woman for her reaction, which she starts off with a loud cackle.

“Buddy, the Sedins are okay in game 37 against the Sabres when they can pad their stats, but where were they in that Stanley Cup Final? Giroux is fucking clutch.”

Considering this is his apartment, Danton has no problem yelling back and forth across the table for the second half of the period about how the Sedins were affected by injuries and the importance of leadership. Brandon’s friend, who Danton learns is named Erin, seems into debating like they’re on a sports radio show. The other two are more than happy to be their captive audience. At some points, Brandon attempts to chime in, but Danton and Erin are quick to shut him down. 

The two are friends by the second period, bonding over hatred of the Penguins and how Shane Doan is underappreciated. Midway through the third, it comes up that Erin is looking to increase her training over upcoming holidays. Danton offers to help with the reasoning that he “avoids going back to Canada like the plague.” 

Most of their roommates don’t get home until the game is ending when there’s only time to quickly introduce themselves to Brandon’s friends and say goodbye. All of them catch Erin give Danton her phone number so they can find time to train together.

“Oh Danny, you got a date?” Jake yells at him from the kitchen as soon as the door closes. Being that loud, Danton wouldn’t be surprised if she could still hear him. 

For a moment, Danton doubts himself. Nothing about this seemed like a date or flirting but he’s never been good at picking up on it. Did he accidentally give himself a date? 

“She’s the biggest lesbian, dude.” Brandon doesn’t turn to face them when he speaks. ‘You guys have no gaydar, I swear.” 

Quick to defend himself, Pasta chimes in. “I noticed! She had a lesbian patch on her jacket.”

“Way to be observant, Jake.” Danton contributes, despite not having noticed the patch either. 

It would be naive for Danton to say he’s never met another gay person, and straight up false considering everything with him and Sean. However, she is the first gay person he’s met that he isn’t involved with and is loudly out. Someone who doesn’t have a stake in Division 1 hockey but is observing closely enough to understand. Just the idea sounds less lonely than he’s been for months. Years.

Then there’s Brandon. Who has lesbian friends like it’s nothing and doesn’t have any gross motives for it like a lot of the athletes they know would. Danton hadn’t thought he was homophobic or anything. Most of his teammates have good intentions but don’t know how to act. But there is relief in hearing that Brandon is one of the few who does and witnessing that. 

In the same way that he feels less lonely now, he feels safer, especially sharing a room with Brandon.

That night, Danton comes up with a plan.

\----------

Draft day talk is all Danton hears as graduation gets closer. Midterms and the trade deadline come and go with some teammates deciding to go pro instead of getting a diploma. Daydreams are replaced with planning for goals no longer out of reach.

Danton hates talking about the draft. It scares the hell out of him to think about his future closing in on him. Compared to Jake or Pasta or Brandon, who have agents for NHL teams staying in touch while Danton’s phone stays silent, things don’t look as bright for him. 

That is, until the Friday he gets an email during class from one of the Bruins’ scouts. Not a generic email template, like the ones he got from the Ducks and the Oilers that looked identical to the one all seniors on the team got. This email lists information on the developmental program of the Bruins and why it could be the right fit for him, facts on Danton that even he didn’t know about himself. 

All four in their friend group have windows to the NHL now. Jake insists on celebrating the fact with cheap beer and cheesy ‘90s movies they all talk over.

“Pasta is gonna get the biggest signing bonus of all of us; he better take us all out to a reunion dinner.” Brandon jokes around during Clueless as they discuss what entry-level contracts look like these days. Not that they really understand what escrow and conditional bonuses even mean, despite Jake trying to read out definitions on his phone.

“I wanna be the Oprah of the bar.” The reply from Pasta sounds wishful at first, but quickly he’s back to joking. “Be all like...You get a shot, you get a shot!” 

Between handfuls of popcorn comes Danton’s piece. “They got _Behind The Music_ for athletes? We’re gonna see Pasta on there in three years when he accidentally blows all his money on drinks and designer headbands.”

Pasta chucks a popcorn kernel at him before shooting back in words. “We’re gonna see you getting arrested for rioting during the World Series.” 

“Yeah, do your best Boston accent! Gotta fit in,” yells Brandon. 

It’s embarrassing, but he tries to find the perfect sentence to test an accent out on when Jake interrupts. Danton isn’t prepared to be brought back down to earth with only one sentence. 

“Hey, isn’t that Kuraly kid in talks with Boston too?” 

He’s probably reading something on his phone about Boston scouting Sean. The question is more of a statement.

Earlier that month, Sean had gotten his own personalized email from the Bruins. Danton knows because he was the second person Sean called, after his mother. Even sent him a screenshot which Danton did a dramatic reading of over the phone to him just to hear Sean be giddy. 

There was relief in Sean’s voice then, something that Danton wishes he could have. 

He wants to be signed by an NHL team, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. For it to be a franchise like Boston is even better. If it were as simple as going and playing hockey, then maybe Danton could have run out of class and called Sean in the hallway with a smile on his face. 

Or he would call his dad first, instead of letting it go to voicemail all day and not engaging beyond texting the email to him. 

Everything could be that way if it didn’t feel like a train was coming toward him, only a matter of time before everything falls apart and he can’t pretend anymore. 

The phone rings before Danton can respond to Jake. For the sixth time today, his dad is calling. It’s probably the best example Danton has of choosing between a rock and a hard place. 

He chooses the hard place as he excuses himself into the hallway to take the call. 

“Sorry, I just got out of practice,” Danton answers with instead of hello, hoping the slurring doesn’t give him away. Lying to his parents is just another language he’s fluent in. 

“The Bruins, huh?”

His father's voice is hard to read, but what else is new. Always like he is being interrogated or asked a trick question. 

The best defense to that is to play dumb and innocent. “Yeah, pretty far, but they got a good development system. You know that kid I played with for a bit, Noel? He loves it there.” 

“Any team would be good. Hundreds of players got these emails, you still have to stand out to be called into training camp.” It’s a sentence that makes Danton’s blood boil with the way his dad thinks feeding into his fears makes him wiser. A sentiment that has made him want to quit before, even makes him want to quit now until he hears his friends laugh from the other room and remembers the real reasons why he plays. 

As much as he was raised to play hockey, the sport is how he escapes the way he was raised. Danton has made it his own. 

Danton’s been silent too long. His dad speaks up again.

“There’s been kids coming back from juniors and college programs, working at the grocery store and the rink with nothing to show for it. I don’t want that to be you.” 

The warning doesn’t come from a place of concern. It’s a threat. 

“It won’t be. I gotta go talk to my trainer, I’ll talk to you soon.” 

Danton is careful with the words he chooses. With his mom, he can end a conversation with a simple _I love you_. It’s not that easy with his dad. He can’t be loving without risking ridicule and near disgust from a dad who resists any affection between two men, even family members. At the same time, Danton can’t be cold without being accused of disrespecting him and chewed out for it. It’s been twenty years of this tightrope act. 

Tonight's magic has worn off for Danton. It’s obvious to his friends who attempt to cheer him up. Jake tries to get Danton to throw popcorn into his mouth from across the room, but he can’t bring himself to play along. It’s not until the end of the night that Pasta gets through to him. 

“Bad news?” Pasta asks as they clean up the living room and prepare to sleep. The other two are taking care of the kitchen, keeping the conversation contained.

Not wanting to worry him, Danton keeps it short. “Just a little stressed.”

“Lot of expectations this time of year.” 

Even when he may not seem like he’s paying attention, Pasta has a way of reading people.

“Expectations from the wrong people.” Danton can’t help but sound bitter.

Between picking up large chunks of food from the floor, Pasta gives a casual answer.

“Don’t read the comment section, man.” Pasta begins with a joke before transitioning into a serious answer. “But we give ourselves the most pressure. Like in freshman year when I never went out with the team, always at the gym until Brandon made me eat that gross food with him on his birthday. ‘Cause I thought I had to prove I belonged here. Now I look back and realize...I was the only one who thought I didn’t belong. Nobody had a problem. And I wasted a lot of time I could have spent eating gross food thinking they did.” 

Danton does remember that. It’s not like Pasta was particularly shy, but when he thinks back on it he definitely wasn’t as comfortable then as he is now. 

Being comfortable with himself seems unattainable to Danton, but that’s not the point. 

“Fake it ‘til you make it.” Pasta tacks on.

The cliche phrase helps Danton more than anything else he’s heard that night.

\---------

The plan Danton came up with isn’t set into motion until his third training session with Erin. They focus on passing, which turns into them showing off, as it always does with hockey players. She reminds Danton of Jake, eager and sometimes getting ahead of herself but always completing the pass or finishing the lap the fastest.

Conversely, Danton’s mathematical in his play. Calculating the opponent's’ next move and analyzing the goaltenders’ weaknesses. What he struggles with at times is speed. He can see what’s coming but isn’t always fast enough to stop it. Always a step behind.

Danton’s mind has been elsewhere most of the time he’s on the ice. Planning out a conversation he hasn’t been able to spit out for two previous sessions. It isn’t spoken until Erin is teasing him about nearly breaking his ankles when she deked around him that day and he decides to change the subject however possible.

“Do you go to the GSA?” Danton blurts it out with no transition. 

“I dabble in aligning with the straights, what’s up?” Despite the sudden question, Erin doesn’t seem startled.

The impulse is gone, and Danton is struggling with the words. “I want to be...better for the team I guess. A better ally a-”

“You don’t have to lie, no one at the GSA is gonna tell anyone.”

Is it that obvious, or can she just tell because she’s been through it? He decides to go ambiguous. 

“Just curious is all,” Danton says with a sigh. 

In return, he gets a soft smile from Erin. 

“I can text you the details. We always need more people.”

The text comes in five minutes after they part and the next meeting is only two days away. No point in backing out now.

By Thursday, he’s gone through every possibility in his head of what it could be like. What if, by some chance, he goes and another teammate is there? They could always make a pact, sure, but what if someone else in the group recognizes him and decides to spread information around? Erin assures him over text about one hundred times that no one in that group cares about the hockey team enough to tell “all the generic white boys” apart. It’s funny, but it doesn’t ease the anxiety.

Nothing actually calms him down until he’s in the dusty English department classroom with ten kids who are overall disinterested in his new presence. The group leader, a senior named Gwen who is open about being a trans lesbian, has everyone introduce themselves to welcome him.

Danton is too nervous overanalyzing what he’s going to say to remember names, but the guy with a beard and glasses who was in a broadcasting class with him sticks out as well as the shorter kid with bright green hair. 

“I’m Danton or just Dan. I’m a junior business major-”

Several of the kids groan. 

“I use he/him pronouns and uh...I guess I just wanna learn more about everything. Help out.”

It sounds stupid once he leaves his mouth, but no one seems to be bothered by it. Gwen gives him affirmation. 

“Always important to start somewhere. Many people don’t want to learn; we’ve spent most of this semester trying to figure out how to get the school to listen to us and change the LGBT history courses to be accurate.” For what must be an exhausting subject, Gwen has pep that comforts Danton. 

“What made you wanna learn?” The kid with the beard drawls, almost skeptical.

With all eyes on Danton, including Erin’s, his palms begin to sweat. “I think it’s important to care about others and uh, learn about myself?”

“Don’t need’a say it like a question, we’re not grading you,” comes from the green-haired kid, cracking the gum in their mouth. 

Everyone is waiting for Danton to continue. He wipes his hands on his jeans. 

“I don’t wanna say this stuff wasn’t there for me growing up. It existed, but no one talked about it. We just kinda knew you weren’t, like... “

Danton wonders how much he’s going to give away in front of a group of mostly strangers. There’s a lot he’s been holding in for too long. He’s been so good at lying he’s started to hide things from himself. 

“Like, I’ve kissed guys, and been with men, before college even. But it’s always come with an understanding that it’s temporary. Now I’m learning it doesn’t have to be and I like how that sounds.” 

Before Sean, the only times Danton had been with men were blowing guys on his high school teams who wouldn’t acknowledge him in public the next day. Most people respected Danton, but they were ashamed of him too.

It had been his understanding for years that the best option was to enjoy a fifteen-minute hookup and go about the other twenty-three hours and forty-five minutes of his day playing a role. That was before hair-washing and _Jersey Shore_ , the Dayton Police Department, and laundry room phone calls. It was before friends who drove him to try bad gas station drinks and introduced him to cool lesbians. 

Gwen replies in a voice that reminds him of his high school guidance counselor. “Well, I know all of us are gay and here to stay, so it sure as hell isn’t temporary.”

“I'm still gay out of spite,” another girl contributes to lighten the mood. 

The conversation quickly shifts to how the group can reach people on an entry level while still giving time and energy to more complex and pressing issues. They consult Danton frequently to include him, but the beginning of the meeting still has him frazzled. 

There are things that Danton can’t change, like hooking up with his captain in sophomore year and getting his heart broken when he sees that guy is engaged on Facebook. Or repeating the same mistakes with Sean for longer than he’d like to admit. 

If everyone is right, and there is still a future for him, he can at least change that.

\------

By the time spring comes around, Sean is certain that Junior year is the best year of college yet. He had been named the captain of the team and had more goals and assists than in his past two seasons at Miami. Made more friends outside the hockey team in elective classes and even did lighting for a school production. This feels like what college is supposed to be.

Issues wait around the corner like Danton and all the talks about graduation and going pro. Those are topics where Sean tries to put off thinking about them too much until he can no longer avoid it.

Matt is making that plan a little hard right now.

“February and March are gonna be insane, ‘specially for non-playoff teams.” His babbling comes between bites of a sandwich and scrolling through emails. 

It is less of a conversation and more Matt speaking at Sean, but Sean doesn’t mind. That’s what Matt does when he is stressed. Or being bombarded with email after email from his parents, school representatives, and various agents.

Sean has a lot of teams taking a good look at him and doesn’t want to take that for granted. Half the RedHawks are not so lucky and have post-graduation plans around ECHL life or normal jobs. After years of feeling like he had to prove himself because he didn’t belong, Sean had had trouble comprehending that Miami saw his value. NHL agents deciding he is worthwhile is even harder to grasp.

Focusing on the next game and letting the stats speak for themselves is easier for Sean. Unfortunately, his three closest friends are not into winging it and spend most of their time theorizing about draft days and call-ups and first NHL goals. Anders, in particular, has a lot of ridiculous scenarios about scoring a hat trick in his first game and the celebrations he would have. 

“....And there’s going to be Bruins scouts there, too.” The sentence snaps Sean back into the present.

“Wait, what?” 

Matt looks away from his computer for what must be the first time in two hours and turns to him. “They’re looking at you, right? Gonna be Bruins, Wild, and Stars scouts at the game on Saturday.”

“How do you know this?”

“Anders saw it in Lars’ email.” 

Last semester, Anders had been given access to their assistant coach Lars’ email. He has been tasked with periodically unsubscribing from spam emails for him in exchange for fifty dollars. It is a total NCAA violation. The boys are keen on keeping the secret so they can get exclusive information and hear Anders do dramatic readings of Lars’ emails. 

Sean rubs his eyes, hoping it will help adjust his head as well. “Who’re we even playing on Saturday?”

Having to ask your teammate for the schedule when you’re captain isn’t Sean’s best look. Matt doesn’t judge Sean for too long before giving an answer. 

“We’re playing Denver. Maybe you can ask your boy to help you look good.”

That one sentence makes Sean want to throw up multiple times. From the excited nerves of Matt calling Danton “his boy” to the knowledge that they’ll have to play each other while being scouted by the same team. 

News from the Bruins that they showed interest in Danton feels like both a blessing and a curse. Danton is exceptionally talented, possibly Sean’s favorite player to watch and he deserves a shot at the NHL more than anything. For them to play together is exciting until he factors in all the ways it could go wrong. Someone finding out, Danton cutting him off again, one making it pro while the other gets cut from the team are possibilities that keep Sean from sharing his friends’ excitement about the NHL. 

Except now, the time has finally come that he can no longer avoid it.

Sean’s panic attack gets interrupted by Charlie slinging his messenger bag at the two sitting.

“What’s the Peanut Crew up to?” Charlie greets the two as if he didn’t just throw fifteen pounds at them. 

The grin Matt tries to suppress is painfully obvious. “Nothing that matters for you, big shot.”

With a flick of Matt’s hair, Charlie takes a seat between the two and gets shoved by Matt. 

“Scouting. A couple of NHL guys are gonna be here Saturday.” For worry that he may sound too anxious, Sean tacks on a joke. “Better not make your captain look bad. I’ll lock you both in a closet.”

“That a promise?” Encourages Matt, who never backs down from a challenge. It does earn him an additional shove from Charlie. 

“Don’t worry Cap, I’ll take Danny out for you.” Charlie makes the threat while pointing at his elbows. 

In record time, Sean’s face gets red enough to match their jerseys.

“Seriously, why is everyone bringing him up to me? Denver has other players. You guys are friends with them!” 

Both Matt and Charlie laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world. The past twenty minutes have given Sean an upset stomach. 

“Oh, you’re being serious.” Charlie deadpans after his laughter dies down. 

That says enough on its own, but Matt decides to take on his assistant captain role and break it down for him. “I don’t think anyone outside us and Anders have noticed, but....the three of us have noticed you and Dan breaking off from your friend groups for the night every time we play each other. Or when you asked me to give him my fucking car to pick you up, which I did, because I’m a good wingman.”

Before Sean can lie his way out of it, Charlie adds on.

“You also are always so touchy, like, at the end of last semester when we snuck into that really late movie and you guys were cuddling. We can see you sending drunk Snaps to him too, you know that, right?” 

That’s a little too much for Sean to refute. All of his close friends know he’s gay; that’s not an issue. Maybe that’s how they were able to figure everything out. 

“No one else knows?” Sean is trying hard to convince himself that he’s not freaking out. It’s not exactly working. 

At the sound of his desperation, both begin to soften up. Matt is the one who speaks first. 

“Most of the guys can’t even talk and tie their skates at the same time. They’d never put two and two together.”

“We just know because we love you.” The love gets drawn out and it’s partially sarcastic, but Sean knows the sentiment from Charlie is genuine. 

As Matt gets up and grabs his laptop, he ruffles Sean’s hair. “Best captain ever!”

It’s these conversations that make Sean’s junior year.

\------

Procrastination and distractions don’t make the game against Denver come any slower. Shortly after his conversation with Matt and Charlie, he texts Danton about the scouts being present. It doesn’t scare Danton as much as Sean had worried it would.

“Can we make a pact to let each other score three goals?” Was Danton’s first reaction upon hearing the news. 

Just like that, Sean feels less anxious too. “Matt and Charlie already threatened to take you out for me.”

“They’re just jealous ‘cause we’re being looked at by their favorite team.” Danton sends before following up with “Tell them I’ll be happy to sign their Bruins jerseys.”

Danton even sends him an emoji. They’ve come a long way from the texts that sound like his dad wrote them. 

Pregame rituals go as planned. Most of the agents, scouts, and college representatives meet amongst themselves before the game and allow the players to do their routine and superstitions. It’s still a crucial game late in the season, and Sean is still captain. 

“...And for the love of god, don’t let ‘em play pretty.” Sean closes a game plan review. There’s something in the air that tells him this is going to be a fun one. 

Miami leads 2-1 after the first, including a goal scored by one of their rookies on Sean’s wing and a major hit by Matt. Everyone can tell Sean is hungry for one and keeps passing him the puck. He tries to remind them to focus on winning first. 

Sean has a method for playing against Denver at this point in his college career, something you have to think about strategically when paired against someone you’ve been in an on-and-off-again relationship with. It’s a different mindset, a team mindset and not an interpersonal one. 

Maybe three days from now, though, Sean can enjoy the highlight of Danton scoring on them. 

Denver ties it up midway through the second. Their coach gives Sean’s line heavy minutes to get a goal and some momentum before the period ends, him and his right winger able to dominate neutral zone play to block defensive zone entry at the red line with other lines following suit. Frustration on the Denver players is visible. By the time they do a second cycle through their lines it’s clear they’re breaking down.

A minute and a half left in the period and Sean is out again. The plan is to stick to the defensive system and look for holes to complete a breakaway with, something Charlie is able to find on the ice and give him a stretch pass. There’s still enough time on the clock but adrenaline pumping through him makes it feel like there are only three seconds to go and he charges into the offensive zone. 

Sean can see the goalie getting into position, waiting for him. He can see the rookie ready for him to pass if he needs, the defensemen ahead of him ready to lay down. It’s impossible to see, but he can almost feel the presence of the Pioneer defensemen trying to catch up to him.

This is a traditional hockey play. The kind you watch in the NHL all the time, and the kind Sean’s been on both sides of more often than he can count. 

Which is why he isn’t ready when the Denver defenseman gets close enough to check him from behind. 

There should be no way to lay a clean hit from that position, but of course, it isn’t a clean hit. That much Sean can tell lying on the ice, even if he can’t tell what exactly on him is hurting or how much time passes before he's guided off by a trainer. 

The last thing Sean notices from the rink is Brandon chewing some young defenseman he doesn’t recognize out. Must have been the guy who did this.

\---------

Sean’s final game of the season occurs three days before Spring Break, so the school lets him go back home to be with his family and recover a little longer.

Miami’s team doctor diagnoses him with a shoulder separation. Tells him to be thankful it isn’t a concussion or anything. 

Sean isn’t quite sure how to be thankful that the one NHL team looking at him will remember him for all the wrong reasons. 

They ended up winning after Sean left with the injury. A couple of players texted him, told him they rallied around him. That was five days ago now and Sean hasn’t answered. Most of the texts he’s gotten since have gone unanswered, including several concerns and apologies from Danton. 

Sean isn’t even mad at Danton; he wasn’t the one who hit him. It’s just that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone at all right now.

Recovery from a shoulder separation only takes about six weeks. Sean knows this, knows he’ll most likely play next season and could be as good as new. That knowledge is shelved next to the high possibility that he may never be the same if he doesn’t recover right, that the Bruins may have lost interest from this having decided he’s a liability. 

Sean has worked for years to get to the point where things had finally been falling into place. Worked his ass off to captain a Division 1 team, to have friends and maybe eventually a boyfriend. It only takes one hit for that all to teeter with no choice but for him to watch and wait to see if it falls. 

Tuesday of Spring Break comes with Sean still not having left the house. His mom is beginning to worry. The morning is spent viewing texts he still can’t find the words to respond to until he comes across one from late last night. It’s from Bryant, a number he could never bring himself to block, reading texts that went from angry to flirty to casual on his rough nights. 

This particular text only says _“Rough game Saturday?”_

Sean refuses to overanalyze how he even knows.

That night, he leaves the house for the first time in days. Only one text had been sent that day from him. 

_“Meet at yours 9?”_

****

**Senior Year**

Senior year will be the first time Danton plays on a team with someone who knows he’s gay. A few months back, the only person who really knew was Sean. 

That number rapidly increases after making friends at the GSA, a group of four including Erin who had known before he had entirely accepted it. Danton tells a friend from home that summer, more of an acquaintance, mentioning it casually. Then there is Brandon. 

Before he left for the summer, Danton had received homework from Erin after complaining about all the agents and family members he’d have to meet with and how it felt like more work than school was. He whined that “I feel like the First Lady, they’re gonna have me kissing babies soon, I swear,” which prompted the challenge. 

“Do three things this summer that are _just_ for you. Not shit you need to do or want to get done, I’m talking pure self-indulgence.” 

That is, surprisingly, harder than it looks. Danton had already felt like a stranger to himself and this makes it worse. 

It is awkward at first. Attempt one is spent wandering around downtown Vancouver by himself with headphones on until a store catches his eye. Nothing changes his life, but he finds a good Thai place and a store where you can hand-paint sneakers. He decides to put it in the win column. 

The second part is completed when Danton goes to see the _Ghostbusters_ remake the night it comes out. Jokes made in a group chat with his GSA friends about the couple making out next to him aside, he thoroughly enjoys that adventure. 

For the third one, he goes with something more stressful but necessary. And completely unplanned. 

A midnight text comes from Brandon in the third week of July with a link to a Miami University press release. One stating that Sean had suffered an additional injury to his shoulder separation, but will be there to start the season. Another text follows a minute later. 

_“You know what happened??? I know you two are close.”_

Danton doesn’t, and that’s what makes him worry. The past few weeks as the semester ended and summer began haven’t been completely cut off from Sean, but texts have slowed down and sounded distant. He’s been like that since his injury. 

Friends who know his sexuality and situation assure him it is probably more tied to being sad about the way his season ended than annoyed at Danton, but it doesn’t bring any comfort. If Sean is sad or doubting his future, Danton wants to be there for him. 

At the same time, Danton wants to give Sean space if he needs it. It doesn’t feel malicious or awkward the way it did in the past when they weren’t talking. 

Danton just can’t help but worry if Sean actually does need someone and won’t ask until it’s too late. Like in Dayton. 

_“Maybe pushed himself too hard recovering?"_

A response comes from Brandon immediately. _“I can tell you care about Sean a lot.”_

Nothing about that should be alarming. Danton cares about all his friends. 

They both know that’s not what he meant. 

Four months ago, Danton would have tried to de-escalate. He even types out a response downplaying it before catching himself and deleting it. 

_“We’ve been through a lot together.”_ Danton settles on. If Brandon wants to know more, he’ll ask. 

_“You really have. I’m glad you have each other.”_

It takes a few tries at replying for Danton to decide to just take the risk. This will be item number three in doing what he wants. 

_“When he took me home that night at the 7-Eleven and washed my hair.”_ Before Brandon can send another message, Danton tacks on another text. _“We kissed that night.”_

The bubble indicating that Brandon is typing goes away. What may be the world’s longest minute passes before it pops up again and Danton gets the short reply. 

_“Was that the first time?”_

_“No.”_

_“Are you still together?”_

A question Danton has been trying to answer for over three years. _“I don’t know if we ever really were?”_

Being the good friend he is, Brandon calls him immediately so Danton can explain everything that happened when no one was looking. The conversation is laced with many epiphanies of Brandon’s, exclamations of “That’s where you two went!” and “So that’s what that weird text message was about.” 

This is the first time Danton has ever had this. Staying up late on the phone with his friend talking about relationships. 

Now, getting ready to go back to Denver with the car packed tight, Danton is cautiously optimistic. Feelings of impending doom will never really go away, but now he knows he can put up a fight against any misfortunate that comes his way. 

Danton and his dad make it an hour into the trip before it gets uncomfortable. 

“Heard someone on Pauly’s hockey team came out as gay,” his father says nonchalantly. 

The cell phone may be the best invention to help one distract themselves and keep cool in situations like this. It’s not like Danton even knows who Pauly is. Why does his dad think he cares? 

“Huh.” Danton uses his go-to answer for most of the things his dad says 

“There any gays on Denver?” 

The sentence would be funny if Danton didn’t want to die. 

“Not that I know of.” Danton keeps his eyes glued to his phone and his voice even. Performance art he’s perfected over the years. 

A nod of approval comes from his dad. “Good.” 

For once in his life, Danton tries not to take this out on himself. 

\--------

This is the seventh time Sean’s phone has gone off at dinner. It’s getting harder for everyone to ignore.

He hasn’t picked up any of the calls tonight. At this point, he knows who’s on the other end. The only person who’d be calling this excessively and who has been pestering Sean in waves for the past month.

Despite that, Sean hasn’t had it in him to block Scott Bryant’s number. 

“Someone write your name in a bathroom stall or something?” Charlie attempts to be lighthearted while addressing the elephant in the room. 

Matt, Charlie, and Anders had already been concerned when he came back more injured than he left. Nothing significant, just a sprained wrist Sean could pass off as overworking himself when in rehab for his shoulder. Even practice with the team and would be back in the lineup within a week. 

He may have gotten away with the lie if it wasn’t for all these damn phone calls.

“Think I got put on a telemarketer list, these things should be fucking illegal-”

The phone rings again. No one is buying Sean’s bullshit and it’s obvious by the concerned look on their faces. Sean wonders what gives it away. Is it the color draining from his face or how fast he swats the decline button on his phone? 

Matt is least likely to entertain any nonsense. “Is someone fucking with you? ‘Cause I got a car, we can go over there right now and I don’t think they’ll be as confident in person.” 

“No, it’s something dumb, it’ll be done in a few days.” There is still some hope that Sean can lie his way out of this one.

“This is like, this sixth day this has happened and we’ve only been back for five.” Anders counters and, well, he’s not wrong. 

There’s no time to come up with another lie. Sean’s phone rings again. 

Instead of slamming the home button to end the call like he has the last eight times, Sean lets it ring. Doesn’t try to hide his phone as his friends lean over to see the contact that’s calling. He grips the edge of the table. 

The call ends. Matt asks if he’s okay. The tenth call starts. 

Sean loses it. 

_Summer had felt like a relapse. The shoulder injury serving as a reminder of where he comes from, and how easily he could end up back there. Odds will be stacked up against him no matter how hard he works and Sean wanted to make peace with that. To keep himself humble._

_Until the end of July when Charlie and Anders had met up for some training weekend and FaceTimed him. Nothing deep or overly concerned, just Anders showing him Charlie dancing and all three of them ranking Vines. It didn’t get sentimental until the end._

_“You like, never text anymore. Which is weird because you’re fucking attached to your phone but maybe you only use it for booty calls. But we want to know how you are! Send us a selfie now and then so we can make fun of you.” Charlie tried really hard not to sound corny but failed._

_Sean was touched, regardless. He took the time after to go through the texts he’s been ignoring for months and the conversations he put off._

_The injury put him very, very close to losing hockey. It was the scariest thing he had ever experienced. Looking at how many people were reaching out to him, Sean realized he should have had a little more faith in the foundation he built around the sport._

_More faith in himself as well. Starting with not making himself miserable now just because there’s a risk he may be late._

_Putting that mantra into action didn’t come easy, or all at once. It only hit full force in Bryant’s basement a week later when, more than anything, he felt bored._

_Being in that basement didn’t feel like traditional misery. Nothing like losing a childhood pet or getting punched in the nose. This, the process of lying there and settling for less in exchange for validation, felt more like waiting at the DMV for an hour or trying to buy a plane ticket._

_Picking up his clothes on the cigar- stained hardwood floors, Sean knew he didn’t like feeling like nothing anymore._

_“I think I’m done.” Sean declared while buttoning up his shirt. As if it was a board game or a portion on his plate._

_He wasn’t met with much concern at first. “You have to be; I need you out of here in thirty minutes.”_

_What came with the realization Sean had was the inability to be patient anymore. Or maybe to be smart._

_“No, I mean I’m done wasting afternoons with some washed up guy with a growing beer belly trying to live through me.” As soon as he said it, Sean knew he was in trouble, but he also wasn’t going to back down. “It’s been real.”_

_From a few feet away, Bryant snapped his head up and deepened his voice. “What did you say to me?”_

_Somehow, Bryant’s threats felt laughable, and Sean was untouchable. Even as his former coach slowly started to pace towards him._

_“You heard me.”_

_Sean figured it was best to get on the defense as the other man got closer to him and angrier. There wasn’t much room in the basement, and he realized this as he began taking steps back while trying not to look fazed._

_All that came to Sean’s mind were those wilderness guides that told you to not act scared of wild animals. Try to make yourself seem bigger than them, or something. So he laughs in Bryant’s face. “What are you gonna do?”_

_Actions speak louder than words. Bryant shoved him against the wall in one swift motion._

_Maybe he should have seen that coming considering the history, but he still wasn’t prepared enough to do anything but let himself be pinned._

_Internally, Sean reminded himself to have a plan the next time he decides to do something stupid. Or several stupid things in a row. He winced at the pressure on his shoulder, something Bryant seemed to pick on quickly and press on with his elbows before grabbing Sean harshly by his wrists._

_“I could end your career now, you know. Bring you down a peg if you wanna act all high and mighty. You’ll be back for more either way.”_

_Sean thought he sounded like a fucking cartoon villain. He spit at his face._

_It was worth the twist his wrist got even as Sean cried out. The movement was enough that Sean could get some freedom and shove his way through, being the stronger one even with an injury._

_Nearly dressed, the exit felt anticlimactic as Sean grabbed the bag perched on the couch and made a run for it. There was a paranoid feeling that didn’t settle until he’d run a few blocks and tried to remember if Bryant knows where he lives and if he could get access to that at the school. The dread of going to grab food with his brother knowing he could run into him, constantly checking over his shoulder._

He didn’t tell his mom, or the police, or Danton. Hasn’t told anyone until now.

The three friends all stare at him in sympathetic but terrifying silence. Until Anders breaks it.

“I’d kill him if you let me.”

“You what?” The hysteria Sean is coming down from makes it hard to react.

“I said that if you want me to, I’ll kill him. No questions asked.”

Everyone laughs, but Anders doesn’t seem to be joking for once.

Sean tries to ease him u[. “I think that’s more up to the law than me.” 

Awkwardness is cut by tension from another cell phone ring. They know it’s not a friendly conversation waiting on the other end. Staring at the caller ID awkwardly, Sean gets the phone snatched out of his hands by Anders. 

“If you think I won’t tell the board at your school what you’ve been doing then you’re fucking stupid. I’ll get you fired from there and any place you work after, I don’t care if it’s the goddamn Walmart. You’re lucky I’m not sending this to your mother or wife or the police but if you keep calling this number then consider it done.” 

The whole circle of friends has their mouths opened in shock. Not even on the ice does Anders get that mad. He doesn’t wait for the answer, just hangs up and adds the number Bryant called from to the growing block list. 

“You can pick the movie tonight, Sean.” Charlie breaks the tension, giving him a pat on the shoulder. 

They watch _Top Gun_ and order Taco Bell. Sean has never felt so safe on a couch in the middle of Ohio.

\------

By senior year, it has become a tradition for Danton and Pasta to do something stupid on Thanksgiving break while all the Americans are away. Jake joins them in their last hoorah before graduation and is happy to FaceTime Brandon for multiple hours at a time so he won’t feel left out.

“You think they’d suspend us for this?” Pasta asks not out of fear, but almost curiosity. There’s too much confidence in him to actually be worried about trouble.

In one of their first conversations, the four friends had fantasized about what it would be like to use the pool late at night. Imagination had brought the idea of a midnight party with all their friends to use it to impress a date. When put into action, it only feels fair to keep it between the four of them, or the three of them while Brandon texts them drunk pictures of him frowning.

Jake had been able to talk up the security guard with his charm while Pasta snatched the key and Danton played lookout. It had been so easy to pull off that Danton wonders if the guard does know but doesn’t care.

“And lose the top scorer in the division and first round draft pick? Nah, they’ll just put all the blame on me and Jake.” Danton teases him back. 

Friendly chirps about knowing a future superstar have been going on all year since Pasta all but unofficially agreed to a contract last year, with the promise to his mom to get a degree before going professional. Any smart NHL team would let Pasta do what he wants for the chance to eventually have him on their roster.

The big shot jokes at Pasta don’t work as well coming from Jake, who is listed as one of the top prospects in every article this year but has held off officially committing until he can bargain a better contract. He still tried.

“You gonna visit us when they throw me and Danny in jail?”

Pasta gives them a big, toothless grin. His signature look. “Don’t know, would be bad for the press, wouldn’t it? Think I’m gonna deny knowing you two.”

“You can say you always hated us.,” suggests Danton as they enter the pool. 

Chlorine and chemicals fill his nose and briefly remind him of an artificial version of the sea in Vancouver. In a weird way, Danton prefers the forbidden basement pool he’s about to share with his friends over the open waters back home.

“I’m gonna say Dan shoved me in a locker.” Pasta implying Danton is even capable of that is laughable to all of them.

The three boys stand over the pool, unsure of what to do now that the hypothetical situation that has filled so much conversation is a reality.

There is no epiphany or eureka moment. Danton just realizes he’s really, really tired of daydreaming and waiting. 

He tosses his phone and wallet on the floor and takes the leap.

Legs out, arms up, he causes a big splash in the lukewarm and probably not entirely clean water. Danton’s head goes under with the jump in and his hair sticks everywhere as he resurfaces. There’s barely time to brace himself before he sees Pasta jumping in with a dive-like motion.

Once in, Pasta wraps his arm around Danton’s shoulder and tells him “Ten. Out. Of. Ten”

“You got tough competition, DeBrusk!” Danton yells towards Jake.

An athlete at heart, Jake is always up for a challenge. He takes a couple of steps back and runs straight towards the pool, jumping close enough to his two teammates to see them frantically swim away.

“Good enough?” Jake raises an eyebrow.

Slightly cocking his head for dramatics, Danton gives him some heat back. “Think you need to work on your posture.” 

It doesn’t surprise Danton that Jake tries to dunk him under water for that, but all he can do in response is flail and try to bring Jake down with him.

“Don’t make me break out life jackets!” Pasta warns the two.

The night continues like that until they go back up to the dorm to towel off, drink, and FaceTime Brandon. On the couch, watching Pasta and Brandon attempt to play Mario Kart through a phone while Jake and Danton pretend to be judges, Danton is hit with an all-encompassing sense of comfort. 

He’s almost detached from the scene in front of him as he’s hit with how thankful he is for it all. Everything that’s been great about the past few years and everything that he’s struggled with. Danton is hyper-aware that the guys he’s surrounded himself with the past four years have made him into the person he wanted to be, or at least put him on the right track.

Tonight isn’t a particularly important or profound night. He doesn’t feel changed as a person. What it has done is cement what he already knows. There is the kind of teamwork that comes with sports, where you all meet because you have a common goal and learn to care about each other for that goal. With friendships, you care about each other first and the more intensely you do, the more invested you get in your friends’ goals and making sure they get what they deserve.

Danton is lucky enough to have gotten both.

Standing in that living room and seeing his friends be silly to try to make each other happy, Danton never wants to take anything for granted again. Wants to go and hug his GSA friends, every teammate he’s had, but more than anything he wants to thank Sean. He’s not even sure he would like change so much if he didn’t run into Sean at that party at the end of freshman year.

No one asks Danton where he’s going as he walks into the hallway, barefoot with a cell phone in one hand and a bottle of beer in another.

Sean picks up on the second ring.

“Is everything okay?” The concern is evident immediately, and only then does Danton realize that it’s two in the morning and perhaps not normal to call with no prompting from Sean.

“Yeah, it’s great. Wonderful actually. I just wanted to say…I’m really happy I know you.” It’s hard not to gush when Danton feels so giddy, consumed thinking of everything he could have missed out on without Sean. The things about _himself_ he could have missed.

“You’re not about to die in battle, are you?” Playfulness is evidence in Sean’s voice.

“You think I could be a soldier?”

“Nah, but you could be a secret agent. Everyone would trust you. It’s in your face.”

Danton has never figured out how Sean is so good at words. How he gets him flustered. Not that Danton minds. “Only if you’ll be my partner in crime.”

It’s Sean’s turn to be flattered.

“Okay, I’ll be your getaway driver,” Sean makes sure to keep the banter going. “But only if I get to pick the music.”

“You should make me a playlist so that I can sing along.”

Danton realizes this kind of conversation has been four years in the making. It’s been there all along. They’d just needed to let themselves have this, have each other.

“I can make you one. But no fucking country.”

How could someone insulting your music taste be so endearing?

\------

It is rarely fun to be called into your coach’s office.

Being asked to come in doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in trouble, but with all the anxiety Danton gets waiting to find out, it may as well be a punishment. 

The Pioneer’s coach has been with the team for almost ten years. Well-respected at Denver and by all the teammates. Danton also never wants to talk to him, because there is no way for him to talk to an authority figure without feeling tense. RAs still make him nervous sometimes.

“Take a seat, Heinen,” his coach calls out to him standing awkwardly in the doorway. Being in the room makes Danton very aware of how much space he takes up and wishes he could be as small as he could make himself. 

“Is everything okay? If it’s something on the ice or in the locker room I’m happy to come up with a solution-“ An answer rolls out from some of the PR training classes Danton has had to do before he’s interrupted.

Coach nearly laughs at him, a small chuckle escaping. “God, no, you didn’t do anything. You’re playing great; no one’s got a problem with you.” That doesn’t reassure Danton. If those aren’t the problems, then what are? 

“I wanted to give you a heads up about something; you’re a good guy and I want you to stay out of trouble. Someone emailed me, some anonymous junk account. A pretty random message about how you go to that gay club on campus and we should know as an all men’s team.”

A million scenarios pop in Danton’s head. Like quitting hockey and going to farm in Idaho. Or deciding to come out and say or what? His parents disowning him, cutting off his college funding until he agrees to learn better. Memories of his conversations with Erin, Brandon, and Sean. The terrible shit he knows Sean went through when he came out.

It’s too much at once. The room starts spinning and all he can get out is “I-“

“Heinen, I don’t want you to tell me what your sexuality is or justify anything. I don’t care if this is true or not. I’m telling you because this person sent this trying to mess with you, and I think you should be aware so you can look out for yourself. We’re an inclusive team, but you don’t have to tell me about your personal life because of some fucking email.”

Most of the time, Danton hates when he’s told someone doesn’t care about whether he is gay or straight. It feels dismissive. Now it’s the most relieving sentiment Danton could hear.

“Thank you, I’m sorry if this…caused a distraction.” No matter how much he’s reassured, there will always be a tinge of shame.

“I’m never distracted, now, make sure you aren’t. We got a big game on Friday.”

That should be the end of the story, all Danton needs to let it roll off his back.

Something a guy in GSA said after Danton had opened up more pops into his head. That you can’t just unlearn years of guilt with positive thinking. It had been followed with Gwen mentioning systematic oppression, and internalized homophobia, concepts that Danton understands on a theoretical level but hadn’t quite grasped in his day to day life. He had had to ask Erin a bit more about it and ask her to explain it to him like he was the third grade. 

What she had told him had been shelved away for a few months now.

“Internalized homophobia happens like…when you get in trouble in the third grade for holding a kid of the same gender’s hand, and then ten years later you’re doing it and feel gross and wrong, but your brain doesn’t connect the dots immediately to what happened in the third grade. Especially when you got several instances of that happening to the point they all blur together and it’s just normal.”

It made complete sense, but Danton hadn’t tried to apply it to his life until now. A stupid, poorly written email making his chest tighten so hard that he’s afraid he can’t make it up the stairs because he can’t breathe well. 

Images of his current coach telling him that he doesn’t have to tell anyone anything get intertwined with being in high school, the first year on one of the best U18 teams in the area and fooling around with the captain only for someone to tell. How that coach had made him swear that he wasn’t gay and only convincing him when talking about how gross that would be. Which, Danton realizes now, had just been him being made to say how gross _he_ was to convince his coach that he should stay on the team. Having to humiliate himself to earn the right to be there. 

It takes three attempts to enter the dorm.

A supercut is going through Danton’s head as he struggles to get his shoes off. Shoes that don’t even have laces. But he can’t think straight when being bombarded by memories of ex-girlfriends gossiping about his sexuality, of his dad in the car saying he’s glad no one at Denver is gay, or of Sean apologizing for “being his mistake.”

Over on the couch Brandon, Jake, and Pasta are watching _The Office_ and pretending to do homework. They barely notice Danton before he can’t take it anymore and bursts out sobbing. 

That gets all of them moving, crouched next to where Danton is on his knees in the doorway in seconds.

Brandon rubs his back, and Jake goes to get him water. Reassuring words come from Pasta, mostly just saying that it’s okay and they’re here. It occurs to Danton that they all probably think something horrible happened, that someone is dead or hurt. He doesn’t want them to worry.

“Someone tried to out me.” Danton tries to keep his voice from breaking but can’t. Short sentences are all he can muster at the moment.

The choice of words is enough to clue Brandon in, but not the other two. English not being Pasta’s first language doesn’t help.

Danton knows he has to clarify but it feels nearly impossible to get the words out of his throat, to make it all real. 

“Somebody found out I’m gay and emailed coach about it.”

To their credit, Jake and Pasta try hard not to look shocked. Or maybe Danton is just obvious considering even anonymous email senders know.

“Someone’s about to get their skull broken,” Jake says, hand balled in a fist.

A different, but still appreciated, kind of support is offered by Pasta. “We aren’t going to let anyone mess with you. They sent that email because they will have to deal with all four of us if they show their face.”

That gets Danton to smile. A more practical concern comes from Brandon. “What did coach say?”

Danton sniffles and rubs his nose.

“He was good about it, wanted me to be aware that someone was messing with me but said I didn’t have to tell him if I was gay or not. Which is nice but…”

All three keep their eyes on Danton, waiting empathetically.

“…But what if I’m not so lucky in the future?”

Quick with his words and always wanting to make things right, Pasta has an answer. “Luck isn’t real. You just make your own when you find people as cool as us being as cool as yourself.”

“Yeah, anyone who is giving you shit for your sexuality wasn’t giving you anything genuine when they didn’t know. If they think being gay affects anything, they don’t know much of anything.” Jake reassures.

There are certain problems with those statements, a lack of understanding of the entire situation. As Gwen would say, it doesn’t take into account the system. 

But maybe having friends who want to do the right thing for him is enough. The hug he gets from Brandon solidifies that.

\------

_“Does this make me the underdog between the two of us?”_

Sean gets the text a week before Miami is meant to play Denver, one of the last games between the two he will ever play. The two usually trash talk in texts ahead of those matchups. 

This time Danton has sent an article about the top ten most underrated Bruins prospects. Danton had made it to number one with Sean at number four. Something about seeing their names together, praising them and calling them great investments to the NHL team make him giddy in more than one way. 

_“I don’t think the forward of the year finalist can call himself an underdog ;-)”_ Sean settles on as a response. Despite the teasing, he is glad Danton is getting the attention he deserves. Maybe it will help him understand he deserves it.

_“Didn’t you get nominated for defensive forward of the year?”_

Along with an eye roll emoji, Sean sends back _“When you sign for 4mil and I got 1 you better bring me lobster every day.”/ ___

__One of Danton’s main texting habits is to start and stop typing over and over for a solid minute while Sean watches the writing bubble with no shame. Some days it’s a source of anxiety, but now Sean is only giddy waiting for Danton to press send. Thoughts speed up and he’s unable to stop himself from smiling like he is in high school again._ _

_“I can treat you to some On The Go Pizza next week. Go all out and get two slices.”_ What Danton is referring to is the food truck outside of where the RedHawks play. Every Miami student learns within the first month not to eat there, but visitors aren’t given the same knowledge. It was in their sophomore year that Danton and his friends had made the mistake of eating there and had gotten shit for it from Sean after he had made sure everyone was okay. 

__Things have been the smoothest they ever have between the two boys. It could be the weather, it could just be the way the pendulum is swinging. But unlike their previous ups and downs, there is something different. More honest conversation instead of trying to impress. More understanding, communicating the way they had at their best even when things kind of sucked._ _

__Sometimes it still makes Sean anxious they haven’t been put to the test in a while, yet it gives him the ability to take risks in his texts. _“I gotta show you some REAL Miami U food, all the culture of Ohio some time.”__ _

__Both are tired. Danton clearly doesn’t feel like beating around the bush anymore._ _

___“How about when we play next week? We usually do something after. I can pay since you think I’m such a big shot.”_ _ _

___“I’d love that, but you promise no paps will follow????”_ It’s a good thing no one is around to see how Sean can barely sit still holding this conversation. _ _

___“If you don’t want any fans of yours around then you’ll have to uninvite me.”_ _ _

__Sean feels lucky._ _

____

\---------

They have to take their food to go from the Calzone and Crepe shop Sean recommends to keep from being seen by all the other kids who want a late night snack. It’s not so bad. Today is one of the days spring breaks through and seeps into the weather, both boys’ final NCAA tournament on the horizon. With Sean’s car, they’re able to drive to a park across from the college’s airport and be alone.

“Kind of like _Wayne’s World _.” Sean sighs as they watch the occasional plane overhead. The boys are sitting on the ground with their backs to the car as if they are hiding from the rest of the world.__

__“Haven’t seen it.” A smile creeps on Danton’s face knowing what Sean is going to say next. This isn’t the first time they’ve had a conversation like this._ _

__To match Danton’s expectations, Sean plays up the dramatics. Wide-eyed and mouth slightly open for a second before speaking._ _

__“Not even while drunk?” Danton shakes his head and Sean continues. “What have you seen? You one of those guys who answers _Slapshot_ for their favorite movies aren’t you!”_ _

__“I’m not! I liked that one you made me go see last year with the zombies. Where the dead people flirted better than me.”_ _

__“That doesn’t count if I told you to see it.” In the dark, Sean can see Danton’s eyes crinkle when listening to Sean speak._ _

__“I mean, I can’t name directors or anything and I didn’t watch any award shows until Pasta and I made a drinking game out of it, but I still _watch things_ ,” Danton explains with a mouth full of a calzone. _ _

__“Or those crime TV shows you watch all in one break when you should be sleeping and really shitty comedies?”_ _

__“Well, it’s not _Slapshot_ , isn’t that enough? You’re worse than the film students.”_ _

__Being compared to a film student is enough for Sean to playfully swat at Danton, who sticks out his tongue and shows him a mouth full of chewed up food in response._ _

__Another plane goes by and Danton changes the subject. “You ever think about Boston?”_ _

__“It’s pretty hard to forget, you know, they teach geography in America-”_ _

__“Fuck off,” Danton says fondly. “I mean moving there. The team.”_ _

__The answer to that is: all the time and never. Boston is everything Sean’s been working towards and it’s a little too hard to understand now that it’s close. It’s like making it to the finals: you haven’t won yet but you can taste it. How much harder it is now if you lose it all._ _

__“More than I’d like to. ‘S scary.”_ _

__“Could be scarier. We could have been taken by the Oilers.”_ _

__Even the Pioneer who grew up an Oilers fan was desperate not to go there. Could be worse, indeed._ _

__“It would just suck to lose it all and have to go back home at this point. Feel like do or die, except it’s my life, so it feels like this twenty-four seven.”_ _

__Danton stares intently at him as if Sean is saying something exceptional. Like he’s reading the cure for cancer or the nuclear launch codes out loud when it’s actually Sean talking about his feelings, or some crazy weekend story, or what movies he’s seen. Careful consideration is put into his response and it’s almost scary how important it makes Sean feel. How he always does this no matter what they’re talking about._ _

__“That scared me when I came here; I was worried if I got too comfortable it’d be taken away from me. When I came to college, or when I started hanging out with you. I started telling myself not to think so much, it didn’t work right away ‘cause it’s a whole process, but I’m getting somewhere.”_ _

__Another plane passes by. There’s a break in the clouds that make the stars visible and both look up for a moment before Danton continues._ _

__“I’m still scared a lot, but I think about everything so far and all those sayings about how life is about the journey and not the trip.” Danton rubs his face and groans. “God, I sound like my grandmother. What I’m trying to say is that if you’re too worried about tomorrow, tomorrow may still suck and you never got to enjoy today. Easier said than done, but..”_ _

__With that story trailing off, Sean pipes up. “How do you even get to that point? Sounds great on paper and all, but how do you execute it?”_ _

__“For me?” Asks Danton, and Sean signals for him to continue. “Realizing how good I have it now. In high school, it felt like walking on eggshells every day. Things aren’t perfect now but I have people who care about me and it’s better to spend time caring about them back instead of preparing for when they don’t. Because when you do that...then they stop caring about you a lot faster.”_ _

__The explanation touches Sean in such a way that he bursts out laughing. Thinking about how often they’ve been doing the same thing and driving each other, and everyone else, away because they had both been worried about losing people. As if it’s better if you’re the one who ruins everything rather than someone else._ _

__Laughing makes Sean look a little insensitive, and leaves Danton a little confused._ _

__Sean rubs at his eyes and through the remaining chuckles elaborates. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just...I thought my career was over when I got hit last spring. Instead of fucking, you know, talking to you or my teammates or any of the people who cared I went and fucked a fifty-year-old who wanted to break my arm-”_ _

__“Sean-”_ _

__“And all because I thought I should get used to it if I couldn’t play. Like the only options were to play in the NHL or work retail with creepy dudes as my only friends. Isn’t that ridiculous?”_ _

__At this point, Sean’s laughter is almost a plea for Danton to also laugh. He doesn’t._ _

__“Not really. Well, it isn’t true, but we get told it is a lot. Especially being, well...gay. We get told a lot we can be straight and rich and important or gay and work retail with creepy old guys as friends.” The words are delivered in such a gentle manner that Sean immediately feels at ease. “But playing it safe doesn’t have to mean playing it miserable. And I’m sorry that guy treated you like that. You don’t deserve that.”_ _

__It’s almost too much to process, with Sean wanting to return to the silly conversations but craving every insight from Danton._ _

__“You helped me a lot with realizing that’s not true.” Sean blurts out. Danton reaches for his hand._ _

__“You helped me, too.”_ _

__The food is finished and wax paper scrunched under their legs. Sean squeezes Danton’s hand._ _

__Four years ago, Sean had a daydream for the future he wanted when graduating college. He hasn’t been picked first overall by the Blues for millions with his long-term boyfriend who comes to every game and knows all his teammates, who are his friends and love him no matter what._ _

__What he does have is a couple of people he considers ride-or-die friends, a shot at the Bruins’ roster, and a guy willing to take a chance on him. Names of friends he didn’t know when he arrived and adventures he couldn’t sit down and write._ _

__In another four years, he may be back in Columbus. Or he may be first line center for a Stanley Cup team. Maybe he hasn’t met some of his closest friends then yet, or he could still be with Danton or someone knows. Could go overseas to the KHL. Could get traded to an expansion team that isn’t here yet._ _

__“Hey, you wanna watch _The Departed_ over skype this week? We can talk about what we’re getting into and get you your crime fix.” Sean breaks the silence. The night isn’t going to last forever and Danton needs to make his bus. _ _

__With his whole body leaning on Sean now, Danton replies in a groggy voice. “I’d be down for that.”_ _

__“Down to maybe fall in love, or whatever?”_ _

__It’s cheesy, but Sean is satisfied seeing the way Danton smiles against his shoulder._ _

__“I think I can fit that into my schedule.”_ _

____

\---------

Training camp feels like the first day of school. The texts Danton is receiving from Sean don’t help the atmosphere at all.

_“You think this is too bougie??? I mean it’s an NHL team but I don’t wanna be a show off lol.”_ Captions a picture of clothes laid out in Sean’s bed. Both leave for Boston tomorrow and are being put up in the same place by the organization, so Danton is sure he’ll be asked to help Sean dress Monday morning.

_“Don’t know. You’re gonna have to model it a bit.”_

It’s not subtle, and Sean calls him out on it. _“You just want to see me all dressed up.”_

_“I promise I am taking your outfits 100% seriously. Wouldn’t want you to get voted off the island early on because your shirt was bad.”_ Danton loves to tease him, especially because Sean acts like Danton invented fashion because he knows to go with mostly black and grey colors and clothes that fit. That technique is not well taught in Ohio, apparently. 

Several of their friends had already attended training camp, like Pasta and Charlie, and informed them that there is no grace period for being chirped. Pasta had been teased for a Hawaiian shirt most of his time despite being the best player on the ice. There is no mercy.

_“I’m excited to see you.” _Another text from Sean comes in, and Danton knows he’s serious by the correct grammar.__

__Danton keeps it light in response. _“You’re gonna do tourist stuff with me, right?”__ _

___“I’m buying so many tacky T-Shirts and I’m gonna make you match. You want the Green Monster one or a Cheers one?”_ _ _

___“I love you.”_ Danton types all in one go, the easiest thing in the world._ _

___“I love you, too,”_ Sean quickly types back. Shortly after, he sends several pictures of himself in the various outfits he wants to bring. _ _

__With a smile on his face, Danton flops on his bed next to a mostly packed suitcase. He feels ready for what comes next._ _

**Author's Note:**

> in-depth TW: Sean engages in a sexual/romantic relationship with his former coach so there's both an age difference and power imbalance problem, though the discussion around it within this fic is that This Is A Bad Thing. As a result of this relationship, there is physical violence and some verbal/sexual harassment, but the physical/sexual stuff is not described in extreme detail. If you would like to skip over it, this occurs the first scene of the Junior Year section and the second scene of the Senior Year This is also not a fic in which anyone gets "saved" but rather everyone learns to deal with their shit and also have a support system.
> 
> Other than that, there are depictions of hockey being homophobic with some coming from family members but is only mildly mentioned.
> 
> If you're just getting to these end notes now-thanks for reading, this took two months and part of it was written on a Spirit Airlines flight. This was meant to be a lot less serious and then helped me vent on shit bc idk therapy expensive. Long time coming.


End file.
